


sunflower

by geckointhegarbage



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Getting Together, Hockey Player!Lance - Freeform, Hockey!Lance - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Emotional Abuse, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Unrequited Love, but also a lot of fluff, but like lowkey tho - Freeform, ill add to the tags as i go, so much ang s t
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-09-13 09:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckointhegarbage/pseuds/geckointhegarbage
Summary: every person on earth receives a tally mark on their skin when they fall in love. lance has too many, until he meets keith.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Lance fell in love, it burned. 

 

He was nine. A girl in his fourth grade class laughed at his joke. She had bouncing black curls framing her glasses-adorned face. Her name was Nicole. 

 

She sat across from him in class and like every other boy in his grade, he had a major crush on her. Lance was determined to win her over. When she laughed at his joke, he knew: he was in love. But it wasn’t the feeling inside that made him realize it. 

 

Heat, red and hot, blazed across the inside of his wrist. He screamed, doubling over in pain. Lance fell out of his chair as the fire spread through all of the nerves in his body. He cried out, begging for it to stop. The teacher hurried over to him, but then noticed the thick black line on his wrist. She stopped and pushed all the other kids back. 

 

“He’s getting a mark,” she had said. “Let him be.” 

 

Lance continued to scream and cry, his tears wetting the cheap carpet. The pain subsided after a few minutes, but he could still feel his flesh bubbling. He worked on calming down, trying to steady his breathing. Carefully, he turned his wrist around so he could see it, his eyes still blurry from his tears. 

 

A black line glared back at him. It stood out on his tan skin, evil and menacing. Lance knew what it meant, and he hated himself for it. 

 

He coughed, and sat up. The entire class was looking at him in shock, the teacher still trying to get kids back to work, like this was all part of the norm. She noticed he was sitting up, and smiled at him. 

 

She walked over, and kneeled down. “How are you feeling sweetie?” She smiled at him. 

 

Lance rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. “It hurt, Mrs. Grey.” 

 

She pouted comically at him. “I know, sweetheart. But doesn’t it feel a lot better now?”

 

Lance almost shook his head, no. Then he remembered what the parents and teachers had told him about the marks: if you fell in love with someone, a tally would spark across your wrist, and if they loved you back, you would be granted with a feeling of euphoria, the pain subsiding. 

 

Lance smiles back at her. “It does,” he lied. 

 

The next time he meets eyes with Nicole on the playground, he feels something on his wrist again. Not pain, but like cold water is trickling down his skin. He looks down and realizes that red was dripping down the mark and covering it like ink. 

 

Over the years, his arm would become saturated in red, unrequited love. 

 

  * ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 



 

It’s been fourteen years since Lance got his first mark. 

 

He now has marks covering the entire inside of his forearm, going all the way up past his elbow, and close to snaking around to his shoulder. Each and every one of those marks are a bright piercing red. 

 

Each time he’s gotten a mark, it’s burned, and he’s never felt the sweet feeling of euphoria. Each time he’s been punished for loving someone. So he stopped. Or tried, at least. There would still be a mark there. And he’d still have to go through the burst of pain exploding across his arm and body. Lance hates it. 

 

Lance is finished with college by now, proudly holding a degree in astrophysics. He lives in a small apartment with his best friends, Hunk and Pidge. Both were working together to start up a tech company, Lion.

 

Lance, on the other hand, isn’t doing as well as he had hoped.

 

He wanted to get a job in astrophysics, he really did. He just wasn’t good enough. Lance applied to what felt like hundreds of jobs after he graduated, but each had turned him down. They just all seem to have found  _ another  _ astrophysicist. There was just this  _ other  _ person who had the same degree, but went to Yale or Stanford.

 

Lance tried not to take it personally, but he couldn’t stop himself. Each time felt like a stab in the gut. Each time felt like the company was rejecting him for being himself. So instead, he got a job at a small bookstore, working as a barista in the cafe inside. 

 

He is on his way there now, listening to the gentle hum of the radio as he drove. His uncle’s old truck coughed and sputtered everytime he tried to turn on the engine, and the heat didn’t work, but it’s the best he’s got. 

 

The bookstore is not far from his apartment, only a ten minute drive if he stops at McDonalds for coffee. It was tucked away in a corner of a large shopping plaza. Altea Books was not a large bookstore, but Lance did love to browse the aisles in the winter, a scarf around his neck.  He'd select a fat novel to read during the dredges of the snow storms, burrow himself in his apartment window seat, and read while the blizzards of Hartford, Connecticut raged outside .  It was a tradition when he was younger, and it was still a tradition for him now. 

 

He parks the truck as close to the front as possible. The neon sign in the front shines red, though the “t” in “Altea” was no longer shining as brightly as the other letters. Lance grabs his light blue apron, one he picked up from Allura a few days before, from the passenger seat, locks his car doors, and heads inside. 

 

The door hits a bell and makes a slight jingling noise. Taking a deep breath, Lance can smell dusty perfume of hundreds of books filling the air, mingling with the bitter scent of coffee. He smiles. 

 

“Lance!” an accented voice cries from the back of the store. “I’m in the back!”

 

Lance’s grin widens. The voice was sickenly familiar. The owner of that voice actually had her own stripe on his arm, number nine, toward the top. The line, like all the others, was oxblood red. 

 

He passes shelves upon shelves of books, the eerie quiet disturbed by the slight clicking of his keys in his hand. Lance is walking down a particularly long line of shelves when he hears a loud crash at the back of the store. He jogs down the rest of the corridor of shelves, turning his head back and forth searching for the source of the sound. 

 

“Allura?” he calls out. “You okay?” 

 

“Yes, I’m fine!” she yells back. 

 

There are faint footsteps before her head pops out from behind a cardboard box she is carrying. Her hair is stark white from heavy dye, and tied up into a high ponytail. Her blue eyes sparkle as she smiles. 

 

“Hey Lance! Welcome to your first day,” she says, setting the box down by the nearest bookshelf. “Let me take you to the cafe and get you set up.”

 

Lance follows her as they walk past more bookshelves before getting to a large open space. The cafe is toward the back of the store. A few tables are scattered across the open space, with the cafe built into the back corner of the area.

 

Allura motions for him to follow her through a door next to the counter. “Come back here and I’ll show you how everything works around here. Throw on your apron, too!”

 

Lance tugs down at his yellow sweatshirt sleeves before tying on the apron and following her into the cafe. She shows him the works: the coffee grinder, how to take an order, and how the cash register works. 

 

“He isn’t in right now, but Shiro is going to be your manager. If you need help with anything, feel free to ask him or anyone else working. Everyone else should be coming in a few minutes, so get ready!” 

 

Lance nods in acknowledgement, and Allura runs off to clean up the cardboard boxes before the store opens. He sighs and rests his head on his elbows as he waits for customers and more baristas. He almost dozes off, his eyelids heavy from the lack of sleep he had the previous night. Lance probably would have fallen asleep on the counter if someone hadn’t slammed the front door when they came in. 

 

Lance snaps awake, standing upright and to attention. He hears two voices approaching the back of the store, and scrambles to find something to do. He finds a rag and decides to clean the counters. As the two voices get closer, he can tell they have having an argument over something. Both voices are male. 

 

“Honestly, I’m fine!” one voice says. 

 

“You know I don’t trust you on that bike, Keith. You’re going to get hurt one day!” the second voice retorts. 

 

The first voice, Keith, scoffs. “You’re not my dad, Shiro. I’m an adult. I can do what I want. Just trust me on this okay?” 

 

The owners of the voices walk out from amongst the bookshelves. “Keith, it’s not that I don’t trust you,” sighs the taller of the two. Lance cranes his neck slightly to get wind of the conversation, but still pretends to scrub convincingly at the counters.  The man has a shock of white hair at the front of his face, and a scar across his nose. “It’s that I don’t trust other drivers. You could get hurt! Or worse!” 

 

The other man’s back is to Lance, Keith he presumes. “Listen, if something bad happens, then I’ll deal with it. Nothing has happened yet.” He sighs and runs his hand through his long black hair. “Can we drop this until after work?” 

 

Shiro closes his eyes for a moment. “Fine,” he snaps. 

 

Shiro walks towards the counter, just noticing Lance. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry you had to hear that!” Shiro gasps. “We didn’t notice you were here.” 

 

Lance smiles and shakes his head. “No, no it’s okay! Don’t worry about it.” 

 

Shiro holds out his right hand. “My name is Shiro, and that loser over there is Keith.” 

 

Lance takes his hand and shakes it. “My name’s Lance. You must be the manager?” 

 

Shiro nods in confirmation. “Yup! Allura trained you and stuff, right?” 

 

“She did. I don’t have any questions right now, but if I do later, I’ll be sure to ask you.” 

 

“Perfect.” Shiro turns around and beckons Keith over, who was still facing away from them, scrolling through his phone. “Keith, c’mon. Do you want your coffee or not?” 

 

Keith groans, but turns around. And  _ holy shit _ . Lance almost has a stroke. Keith was probably the prettiest dude he had ever seen, and Lance has to look at himself in the mirror every day. He had stunning purple-gray eyes which were slightly covered by a swoop of black hair at the front of his face. His skin was perfectly clear, not a single blemish or scar in sight, except for a small mole on his jaw. Keith’s lips were such a perfect pink, Lance could have leaned over the counter and kissed him right then. 

 

Good thing he didn’t though. 

 

Lance snapped back to reality as Keith’s purple-grey eyes glared at him through his hair. “What’re you lookin’ at?” Keith almost sneered. 

 

Lance’s eyes widened in shock.  _ Of course he’s pretty and a dick. _

“I’m sorry, what?” Lance replies, confused. 

 

Keith blinks for a few moments, seeming puzzled at his own words. “Nothing, nothing. Sorry.” 

 

“Okay?” he draws out the word. Lance is super confused at what he just said.

 

Shiro glances between the two, sensing the weird tension. “So, Keith,” he finally interjects. “You want a small or medium coffee?” 

 

“Medium,” Keith responds, and flicks back on his phone. “With sugar.” 

 

Shiro nods, and heads behind the counter to make Keith’s order. Lance stands back, having never been more confused in his life. He is tempted to ask Keith about it again, but by the time he has the courage to, Keith is already walking towards the front of the store, coffee in hand and a scowl still on his face. 

 

The rest of the day is uneventful. Lance has worked as a barista before, during his high school summers. And navigating around Altea’s cafe was not too difficult. He meets the other barista, Romelle, and they get along pretty well. Customers are surprisingly plentiful, due to the fact that there was a high school across the street from the shopping plaza. The large amount of books and the late hours of Altea made it a popular place to study. 

 

Lance’s day ends around five. Right now he is still five hours before closing. Romelle had left an hour before him, and Shiro was helping Allura with something in the stockroom. He debated hanging around for a bit to browse books (and put his employee discount to use) but decided against it. It was probably best to just get out of here while he still had some money in his bank account. 

 

He walked to the front doors as he untied his apron. His sweatshirt now smelled like coffee grounds and sugar. The smell was nostalgic, and brought Lance back to his high school days when he was younger, without a care in the world. Draping the apron over his arm, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through all of his unread emails as he walked. Lance was so tired and distracted that he almost walked into someone, just noticing when he saw a maroon sweater in front of him. 

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said the person. “Careful!”

 

Lance looked up, and lo and behold, the person he almost walked into was Keith. 

 

_ Of course.  _

 

“Sorry!” Lance apologized. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.” 

 

Keith rolled his obnoxiously gorgeous eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” 

 

Lance was on the brink of snapping. This guy had been nothing but rude to him in the interactions that they’ve had (yeah, okay maybe it was only two, but Lance was tired). 

 

“Dude, what’s your deal?” Lance snaps. 

 

“Nothing!” Keith turns back to the shelf he was restocking. “Can you just leave me alone?” 

 

“Fine!” Lance throws his hands up dramatically and pushes past Keith, bumping into him purposefully. “Mr. Lone Wolf,” Lance mumbles to himself. He can practically hear Keith’s frustration as he shuts the door behind him. 

 

Lance slams his car door and sits in the driver’s seat, annoyed. He rests his head on the top of his steering wheel, closing his eyes. Lance wasn’t just annoyed at the whole Keith situation, he was annoyed at himself. This was the only job he could manage with a degree in astrophysics. It didn’t even have to do with his degree! Yeah, maybe he did go to a mediocre college. Yeah, maybe he is drowning in almost $45,000 of student debt. But he still has worth, right? Right?

 

Lance shakes his head, trying to snap himself out of it. If he keeps thinking like that, it’ll just keep going down, down, down, into a deep spiral that will definitely end in ice cream, tears, and no solutions. 

 

Lance throws his apron into the passenger seat and starts the truck. The marks on his left arm ache as he puts his hands on the wheel. 

 

He drives home in silence, not bothering to turn on the radio. On the way home, he stops by a Taco Bell to grab dinner. Lance doesn’t bother picking up food for Pidge and Hunk; they work late on Thursday nights. 

 

The apartment is cold and empty when he unlocks the door. The light flickers for a moment before casting the joint kitchen and living room in a gentle yellow glow. Lance sets the plastic bag down on the counter, and throws his apron into his room haphazardly. Grabbing a plate from the top shelf, he puts the burrito on it and sits down in front of the TV. 

 

Mindlessly, he watches Netflix and eats. The entire apartment complex is dead silent, making every small noise he makes eerie and uncomfortable. 

 

But he’s used to it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith's boyfriend shows up at work...it doesn't go to well

The following day, Lance wakes up earlier than usual. He rubs his eyes and peers around his messy room. He checks the time on his phone, six in the morning, three hours away from the bookstore’s nine a.m. opening time. Lance groans and falls back onto his soft worn sheets. 

 

Eventually, he gets himself up, unable to fall back asleep again. Hunk and Pidge are both still dead asleep, their snores apparent throughout the whole of the joint living space. Lance showers, changes into a blue turtleneck and black jeans, has some eggs, and leaves. By the time he gets to his truck, he realizes he still has fifteen extra minutes before he has to be at the store. Lance shrugs and starts driving anyway. Allura will probably need some extra help opening up.

 

The door is unlocked when he gets there. Lance pushes it open cautiously, peering inside. “Hello?” he calls out to the seemingly empty store. “Allura?” 

 

“Who’s there?” a voice that is definitely not Allura’s calls out. It was much deeper, and lacked the accent that Allura’s had. 

 

“Lance?” Lance replied, stepping into the store and closing the door behind himself. 

 

“The new barista guy?” said the voice again, but louder this time. The sound of footsteps follow the voice. 

 

“Yeah, unless there’s another Lance that works here,” Lance replies wittily. “Is Allura around?”

 

The owner of the voice he’d been talking to steps into view, and  _ of course  _ it has to be Keith. Keith’s hair is tied up in a messy bun, and an old, oversized, band t-shirt is practically dripping off of his torso. His ripped black jeans give him the appearance of some indie rock star. 

 

Lance blinked a few times, practically drinking in Keith’s appearance.  _ Who gave him the right?  _ When he notices the startled expression on Keith’s face, he runs a hand through his hair, trying to make the ordeal seem casual. 

 

“You’re here early,” Keith comments, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 

Lance gulps. “Yeah, I, uh, got up earlier than usual today. Thought Allura might need some help opening up shop.” 

 

“Allura’s not here right now. Usually I come in first to open up, then she comes in around 10 or 11.” 

 

“Oh. O-Okay.” 

 

Keith turns to walk back to the storeroom, but stops. Lance watches curiously as Keith looks back at him. “You can come back and help out if you want,” Keith says quickly, then speed walks into the depths of the store. 

 

“Sure thing,” Lance replies awkwardly, following Keith into the stacks.

 

The storeroom wasn’t huge. The bookstore got new shipments of books every few weeks, and leftover books were stored in the room in tightly packed cardboard boxes until the shelves needed to be restocked.  Each box was marked with a title or genre, varying depending on what type of book was in each. 

 

The storeroom door was wide open. Keith had already taken out several boxes, and had been walking through the aisles restocking books when Lance had come in. 

 

“So,” Keith started, leaning down to grab a stack of books from an open box. “We need to restock some cookbooks and comics. You know where those are, right?” 

 

Lance nods, taking a stack of comic book boxes from Keith’s hands. “Yup. I can hit the comics while you get the cookbooks?” 

 

Keith nods, “Okay.” 

 

They walk off in separate directions, but before Keith had turned away, Lance noticed a small smile creeping onto his face. The thought of him bringing anything close to a smile to Keith’s face alone was enough to get him through the day. 

  * ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 



 

As Lance is packing up that day, Keith comes by the counter. Lance is messing with some of the packages of coffee under the front counter when Keith calls out his name. 

 

“Lance? You here?” 

 

Lance, caught by surprise, hits his head while trying to stand up.

 

_ THUMP. _

 

“Shit!” he curses, ducking out from under the counter. 

 

Keith winces above him, even though he wasn’t the one who hit his head hard enough to leave a mark. “Sorry,” Keith mumbles. 

 

Lance rubs his head and stands up. “It’s okay, man.” Lance pushes some hair out of his face. “What’s up?” 

 

Keith wrings his fingers together, not meeting Lance’s eyes. He grumbles something incoherently. 

 

“Sorry, what was that?” Lance leans against the counter towards Keith. 

 

Keith sighs, and raises his voice. “I said I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” he says a little louder. “I was being a dick to you, and I wanted to say sorry.” 

 

Lance grins. Keith looks at the floor, very interested in his shoes. “Thanks, dude,” Lance replies. “I appreciate it.” 

 

Keith nods in acknowledgement, proud of himself. “Anyway, that’s... all I wanted to say.”

 

Lance chuckles. “Okay?” 

 

Keith awkwardly hits the counter. “Yeah.” Swiftly, he turns away and practically runs back into the main store, leaving Lance to stare after him. Lance could feel his face heating up as Keith left.  _ Why do I find him so adorable? _

 

As Keith was talking, Lance sees the inside of Keith’s left wrist. There is only a single tally there, not unusual for most people. Most people only have 2 or 3, some even 4 or 5. What intrigues Lance however, is that the tally is not red. It is still a dark, deep black. 

 

That made his heart sink a little, since he knew that the mark was probably one Keith had for a significant other. Lance smiled sadly while he untied his apron and walked out the the store. At least he didn’t have a mark from Keith. 

 

  * ☆.｡.:*



A few weeks go by during Lance’s time at Altea Bookstore. He gets to know Shiro, Keith, and Romelle pretty well. Keith turns out to be not as much of a dick as Lance originally thought (though he still couldn’t figure out why Keith was rude to him in the first place). Shiro is actually more a dad friend than anything else, being strict with work schedules and always being there to provide life advice. Romelle is really sweet and enjoys making Lance laugh while they work. Lance is actually able to enjoy his new job, and hasn’t had a single bad day there yet. 

 

Well, until today. 

 

Lance was working from the store opening til the close on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. He wanted to work as many hours as possible so he could spend some time home alone on Friday (a flight to Cuba was too expensive right now, and he hoped to fly home for Christmas). The cafe was open while the bookstore was, and was actually a large booster of business. 

 

Lance pours the steaming coffee into a cup and pops on the lid. Romelle takes the cup from him, hands him another, and gives the full cup of coffee to the waiting customer. Lance begins to make an earl grey tea when a voice catches his attention. 

 

“Does Keith Kogane work here?” a man in a sharp slate blue business suit asks Romelle. He has menacing brown eyes, and his brown hair is cut short in the back with a longer piece in the front. His lips curl into a smile that Lance assumes is supposed to be friendly, but comes off as cold and unwelcoming. 

 

Romelle looks uncomfortably back at Lance, who telepathically agrees with her. She turns back to face the man her expression hard. “Sorry, sir, I don’t believe he does,” she says in a sweet voice. 

 

The man  _ growls,  _ digging his hands further into the pockets of his suit. “I’m sorry,” he sneers, “but I’m pretty sure he does. Could you tell me where he is?” 

 

Both Romelle and Lance know that this man is dangerous, and that they should definitely not tell him where Keith is. His stormy eyes and quick temper set off alarms in Lances head, telling him this isn’t someone he should give this information to. Lance finishes making the tea and hands it to the customer, still glaring at the man. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Lance cuts into the conversation, answering Romelle’s silent plead for help, “but we cannot disclose that information to you.” 

 

The man leans in towards Lance. “I’m his boyfriend, I think you can disclose that information to me,” he snarls. 

 

Lance doesn’t move, still very put off by the man’s actions. “Like I said before,” Lance says, his voice low, “we can’t disclose that information to you.” 

 

The man snaps back up, his entire face contorted in an angry expression. “Fine. I’ll just have to find him myself.” 

 

He struts away from the counter, pushing past customers in line for coffee. Lance and Romelle look after, wondering if they should do anything to stop him. Lance decides to speak up and find Keith before that guy does. 

 

“Romelle, I’m going to go find Keith, okay? Can you hold down the fort here?” Lance is already walking out from behind the counter. 

 

“Yes, of course! Make sure Keith is okay,” Romelle calls after him as Lance takes off for the front of the store, where he knew Keith was working the cash register. 

 

Lance bites his lip, walking at an amble pace through the stacks and to the front of the store. He keeps an eye out for the crisp slate blue of the man’s suit, hoping to see it somewhere toward the back of the store. When he finally emerges from the sea of novels, he realizes he is too late. 

 

The man is talking to Keith angrily, throwing around his hands and speaking in a tone that no one should speak to their boyfriend with. He makes wild gestures in the air to further illustrate whatever point he is trying to get across, blatantly ignoring the fact that he is in public. Keith stares daggers at him as he speaks, tapping his fingers on the aged wooden table. 

“And you know what Keith?” the man draws on as Lance walks into earshot. “You’re just being ungrateful. I mean, seriously. I give you everything you want!  _ Everything!  _ A nice apartment, new clothes, even that damn easel you wanted! And you just want to end it here? After everything I’ve done for you?” 

 

Keith grits his teeth, spitting out his response. “James, for the last time, the reason I want to break up with you is because you treat me like shit! You don’t make me feel loved, okay? You make me feel horrible, like I’m-I’m this monster that no one wants to be around. I need you out of my life.” 

 

The man, James, puts his face in his hands. “Really, Keith, I didn’t think you could say these things about me,” he sniffles. “I love you.” 

 

“Then leave.” 

 

James looks back up at Keith, his face broken. “Keith, did you hear me?” James reaches out with his hand and places it over Keith’s. Keith tenses at his touch. “I love you.”

 

Keith closes his eyes tightly and pulls his hand away. “No, no you don’t. Your actions don’t show it.”

 

James makes a  _ tsk  _ noise with his tongue. “But I do! I even have the mark to show it.” James pulls up his sleeve to show a thick black line on his skin. “And I know you love me too,” he says, eyeing the thick line on Keith’s wrist. 

 

“Just leave, okay? We can argue after I’m done with my shift,” Keith grumbles, ending the argument. 

 

James sneers, then pushes himself over the counter and whispers something in Keith’s ear. Whatever it is, it causes Keith to widen his eyes in shock and fear. James leaves the store without another word. Keith swallows, then goes back to counting the cash in the register with shaky hands. 

 

Lance stands by the graphic novels, paralyzed throughout the entire exchange. How could someone treat another person that way? Especially someone they’re supposed to  _ love _ ? Lance wanted to run over to James and fight back for Keith. He wanted to punch him, yell at him for treating him that way. But he didn’t move. Instead he gaped, watching Keith get shouted at and blamed for things he didn’t have a part in. 

 

Finally, after James leaves the store, Lance gets the courage to approach Keith at the counter. He walks over nervously, trying to gather his thoughts long enough to think of something to say. Lance reaches the counter and gnaws at the inside of his cheek. 

 

“You okay?” Lance asks softly. 

 

Keith blinks rapidly, sorting the one and five dollar bills. “Yeah,” he croaks, “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

 

Lance flicks his eyes down to the dollar bills Keith is counting with shaky hands, then looks back at his eyes. “You don’t look too good, buddy.” 

 

Keith sighs in frustration. “I’m fine, okay? Mind your own damn business.” 

 

Lance sighs in defeat. “Okay. But I’m here if you need anything.” With that Lance walks back to the cafe, an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

 

Romelle greets him when he returns. She finishes up an order from the last customer in line, then turns to him.

 

“Everything okay with Keith?” she asks, wiping sweat from her brow. 

 

Lance nods, crossing his arms loosely. “I don’t think so. He and his boyfriend, James, the guy in the suit, were seriously having at it. James seems like a douche.” Lance grabs a part of the coffee grinder and washes it, occupying his hands. “He was just yelling at him for stupid reasons. I know I don’t know about their whole… situation, but the entire exchange was just so ridiculous!” 

 

Romelle nods in agreement. “I could hear bits of it from back here. Keith deserves way better than that guy. Trust me, in the three years I’ve known him, James is the worst out of the guys he’s dated.” 

 

Lance rips a paper towel sheet from the roll hanging above the sink. “Yeah, he does deserve better.” He clicks the clear part back to the main body of the grinder, and leans against the counter like Romelle is.  

 

“Did you try and talk to him after?” 

 

“Yeah, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Honestly I don’t think I would be either, if someone came in during my shift and started speaking to me like that.” 

“Do you think I should go talk to him? He might’ve been reluctant to talk to you since you’re fairly new around here.”

 

“No. I think he just needs some time alone.” 

 

They were interrupted by a customer who came up to the counter to order a strawberry-banana smoothie, and the matter is dropped for the rest of the day. 

 

However when Lance is getting ready to leave, James storms back into the bookstore once again. His footsteps stomp across the tiled front of the store, and the  _ click  _ of expensive dress shoes echo throughout the empty space.

 

Lance is restocking the bags of coffee alone, something he promised Romelle he would do since she had to leave early, when he hears James come in. His voice is loud enough to carry through the entire store, no, the entire shopping center. 

 

“Did you really think that you could send a  _ text  _ and end it with me?” his yelling trickles into the cafe. “You  _ know  _ I’m worth more than that!” 

 

Lance freezes. This did not sound like something he wanted to butt into. But no one else is in the store except for him and Keith, and this definitely does not sound like a safe situation.

 

Lance hastily closes the cabinet and locks the small gate leading behind the counter before leaping through the books. When he gets close to the front, he lowers himself to the ground and crawls to the far side of the self. As long as he is careful, he can peer under the legs of a display table and see both Keith and James clearly. 

 

“Babe, calm down-,” Keith starts before James’ loud voice interrupts him. 

 

“Shut up!” his voice booms. “I don’t need to hear anymore crap from you!”

 

“Then what do you want from me?” Keith cries, exasperated. “What do you want?”

 

James hiccups, his eyes watering. “Come back to me, baby.” His voice is thick with tears. Lance doesn’t buy a second of it. “Come back to me, Keith. We were happy before all of this.” James does the same thing he did earlier that day, reaching across the counter to place his hand over Keith’s. 

 

Keith glances at their hands, then back up at James. His eyes are damp. Keith hesitates for a moment before delivering his answer. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”

 

James’ face breaks out into a grin, faker than Kylie Jenner’s ass. 

 

“I love you,” James smiles, leaning over the counter to kiss Keith. 

 

Keith takes quick short breaths before he leans in, giving James a chaste, unfeeling kiss. “Love you too,” Keith chokes out, looking anywhere but at his boyfriend. 

 

“I’ll see you at home?” James asks, pulling his hand away from Keith’s, a smile still dancing on his face. 

 

“Mhmm,” Keith nods, staring hard at the aged counter. James gives Keith one last dazzling grin before leaving the store. 

 

After he leaves, Keith exhales heavily, as if he was holding his breath during the entire conversation. He starts taking short, quick breaths, as if to steady himself. Through the quiet, Lance could hear him whispering quiet words of comfort to himself. 

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, everything is fine,” Keith hangs his head between his locked arms, squeezing his eyes shut. “Shh…,” he hushes himself, a sad attempt at reaching calm. “Everything is okay, you love him, you love him…”

 

Lance pulls his head back around the bookshelf, so he is sitting upright again. The good news is, Keith or James didn’t see him through the entire exchange. The bad news is that Lance just hit his head against the shelf when he turned back, and now Keith certainly knows that he is there. 

 

Just as Lance predicted, Keith’s head snaps up, looking for the source of the sound. “Hello?” he calls out, his voice still a little wobbly. “Lance?” 

 

_ Shit! _ Lance scrambles to his feet as quietly as he can, and emerges from the shelves. He wonders for a moment if he should tell Keith he witnessed the whole thing, and that the situation did not seem good for him, in any way, shape, or form. But he shouldn’t be digging around in other people’s business anyway. 

 

“Hey,” Lance says in the most casual voice he can muster. “I just finished locking up the cafe. Are you leaving now or do you want to lock up?” 

 

Keith runs a hand through his hair, still clearly shaken from his encounter with James. 

 

“I’ll lock up. You go ahead,” he replies after a moment. 

 

“Okay,” Lance says, then walks past the counter where James was moments before to the door. “Night.” 

 

Keith waves at him awkwardly as he leaves, one arm still gripping the counter for dear life. “Night.” 

 

After Lance leaves, Keith allows a single tear to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o o f sorry for the angst. s8 tonight, and the end of voltron and im emotional :( 
> 
> yell with me on tumblr, plus sneak peeks for later on in the fic: geckointhegarbage.tumblr.com  
> instagram: @88._.20  
> art tumblr: 88-20.tumblr.com 
> 
> updates every thursday!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lance shows keith his marks

Lance’s keys clatter on the tile counter. He groans, stretching his arms over his head. The lights are on in the kitchen, and the TV is on. Pidge or Hunk must be home. 

 

Sure enough, Hunk comes out from the short corridor leading to their rooms. He’s changed from his work clothes into sweats and a t-shirt and is carrying his tablet with him. 

 

“Hey Lance,” he greets tiredly, collapsing onto the couch. “How was work?” 

 

“Fine,” Lance replies, digging through the fridge for something to eat. He finds a carton of leftover Chinese, and puts the entire container into the microwave to warm up. 

 

“You remember Keith, right?” Lance asks, watching his food spin in the microwave. “From what I’ve told you about him?”

 

“He’s the emo kid right?” Hunk says. “The one with the black hair who works the front?” 

 

“Yeah, him.”

 

“Then yeah, I guess I remember him. Why?”

 

“His boyfriend came to the store today. And he was such. A. Dick.” 

 

Hunk chuckles at how Lance’s voice rises. “Oh? Do spill the tea.” 

 

Lance grabs a fork and walks over to the couch as he speaks. “First off, this guy looked rich as fuck. Like, ‘My dad’s a lawyer  _ and _ a doctor _ ’  _ rich. He comes in with this freshly ironed suit. Who goes into a bookstore wearing a suit?” 

 

“Someone who just came back from work?” Hunk suggests. 

 

Lance plops down next to him, crossing his legs on the couch. “Shut up,” Lance glares at Hunk, who just chuckles. 

 

“Anyway, this dickwad just walks right up to the counter at the cafe and asks me and Romelle where Keith works. Obviously, I knew we couldn’t tell him that information, so I said politely, ‘Sorry we can’t tell you’. And do you know what he says?” 

 

Hunk rolls his eyes and opens a new window on his computer. “What did he say?”

 

“He says he’ll go find him himself! At this point, this guy totally rubbed me the wrong way, so of course I followed him. I went after him, and I overheard him and Keith arguing. And I don’t mean just like a little couples quarrel, I mean they were  _ arguing.  _ Actually, it was less of an argument and more of that guy, whose name is James by the way,  just yelling at Keith! It was ridiculous! I was about to go in there and say something before he finally wrapped it up and left the store.”

 

“He came back later though, and went at it again. James went all out like he made a mistake and he still loved him or whatever, but I wasn’t buying any of that bullshit. Keith ate it all up though! Honestly, it was crazy. I can’t believe Keith wants to be with someone who treats him like that.” 

 

Hunk looks at Lance curiously. He puts his computer down and shuts it off, placing it on the empty couch space next to him. “Are you jealous?” Hunk asks. 

 

Lance scoffs. “Me? Jealous? No way,” He flushes light pink, and shakes his head vigorously. “I’ve only known him for a couple of weeks, and in those couple of weeks I’ve known him, he’s been kinda rude to me.”

 

“So then why do you care about how his relationship is going? And,” Hunk continues over him when Lance tries to interject,” why are you making sure he’s okay?”

 

“Because I’m being a good friend?” Lance says, secretly questioning his own motives. “I was looking out for him.”

Hunk picks up his computer again. “Okay, whatever you say. But you seemed pretty invested in his relationship, and how this James dude was treating him.”

 

“You just want more drama, don’t you?” Lance asks in a deadpan voice. 

 

“Yes. Yes, I really do. I finished  _ Queer Eye  _ last night and now I literally have nothing to live for.” 

 

Pidge sticks her head out from the hallway. “You little bitch! You finished it without me?!”

 

Both Hunk and Lance scream loud enough to wake the neighbor’s dobermans. 

 

.　 . • ☆    . ° .•  ✮   °:.   *₊  .   ☆ 

A month goes by without another thought of James and Keith. Lance gets to know the customers who pass by regularly, as well as their orders. He finds himself genuinely enjoying working as a barista at Altea Books. He’s gotten closer with his coworkers, Romelle and Shiro especially, and has even gone out with them outside of work on a few occasions. 

 

Lance has even gotten closer to Keith, who is actually quite the prankster. One too many times, Lance has found someone has poked small holes on the sides of expired coffee bags and found it spilling through the cabinets (Lance only knew it was him because everytime after those incidents, Keith would smell like coffee. Not that Lance was paying attention to how he smells). Keith is a lot less closed off with him now, and even stops by the cafe sometimes while he’s on break to chat with Lance and Romelle. 

 

It’s kind of nice. 

 

Lance is wrapping up the last of the rush hour orders when Keith swings by the cafe for his daily mocha. He sees Keith walking over, his hands burying into his black sweatshirt pockets, and grins at him. Keith responds with a nervous wave before getting in line behind a short, blonde-haired girl. 

 

He finishes up the girl’s order (caramel hot chocolate with whipped cream, her regular), and smiles at Keith. “You want  _ your _ regular?” he asks. 

 

Keith bites his lower lip. Lance’s heartbeat speeds up. “Yeah,” he says quickly. Lance nods and grabs an empty cup, starting to make the mocha with extra whip. 

 

“And I also wanted to talk to you?” Keith says nervously. Which was odd, because Keith hasn’t been this nervous around Lance since Lance’s first day at the store.

 

Lance continues making the drink as he talks, “Yeah, sure. What’s up?” 

 

“Could you, uh, give me advice?”

 

Lance snorts. “Advice? From me, a human disaster?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Lance finishes adding the whipped cream and gives the cup to Keith, who mumbles a thanks. Keith takes a sip and closes his eyes. 

 

“What do ya need advice on?” Lance asks, pressing his elbows against the open space between them and holding his head up with the heels of his palms. “No guarantees I can help you, though.” 

 

“Relationship advice?” Keith asks hesitantly. His face immediately falls when he notices Lance’s grin faltering for a moment. “It’s okay if you’re uncomfortable giving it,” Keith tries to backtrack. “I didn’t know if you’ve been in a relationship or if you’ve ever…” His eyes trail to Lance’s arm, where he doesn’t know about the harsh tallies under the black hockey sweatshirt Lance was wearing today. Lance had never worn a shirt that showed off his marks, not since his junior year of high school when the number of marks were embarrassing and people started looking at him oddly. 

 

“I guess I could give it a shot,” Lance replies after a moment. “No promises it’s super effective though.” 

 

Keith lets out a sigh relief, “Thank you.”

 

“Is this stuff about you and…,” Lance trails off, not sure if he wants to finish the thought. 

 

Keith nods. “Yeah, it’s about me and James.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re still with him,” Lance shakes his head in disapproval. By this time, Keith knew how much the entire bookstore staff disapproved of him and James. After James’ and his whole blow up, the entire staff did the best they could to avoid the topic of James and Keith, preferring to pretend he didn’t exist. 

 

“I know what you and the others think, but what you guys saw that day was not the best showing of his character, trust me. He’s really sweet and kind, and has done nothing but love me,” Keith sighs. 

 

Lance shakes his head one more time. “Okay, but just sayin’, he doesn’t seem good enough for you.” 

 

Keith almost laughs. “Right. And who would be good enough for me, you?”

 

Lance chuckles. “Hey, I would be a good boyfriend and you know it,” he teases. 

 

Keith smirks and rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

 

“Free mochas dude. I’d be the best boyfriend ever.” Lance clears his throat. “Anyway, what’s up with you and James?”

 

Keith’s face falls. “Really, I don’t know. We just seem to be in a weird funk. Lately, our work schedules haven’t been aligning. Usually he gets out at five, then picks me up at nine thirty. Then we have the rest of the evening to ourselves and shit. Though recently he’s been working until eleven, and Shiro’s had to drive me home since James locked up my bike,” Keith’s eyes widen and he tries again to dig himself out of a hole, “because he and Shiro agreed it was dangerous, but that’s neither here nor there. Just...ugh!” Keith buried his head in his hands.

 

“Yikes,” Lance says. “That sounds pretty rough?”

 

Lance mentally kicks himself.  _ Sounds pretty rough? Is that really the best you could’ve come up with? _

 

“Yeah, it sucks ass,” Keith takes his head out of his hands. “Any advice?”

 

Lance thinks for a moment. “Make time for each other,” he finally decides. “Like on weekends and during lunch breaks and stuff. He works at Garrison Systems, right?” Keith nods. “That’s, like, less than a fifteen minute drive from here. Take your break the same time as him, and meet up for lunch or something. Or he can meet you here, or you can go there, whatever.” 

 

Keith listens intently, absorbing each word Lance is saying. “Yeah, make time for each other. That sounds perfect.” Keith smiles wide. “Thanks, Lance.”

 

Lance salutes him with two fingers. “Anytime, Samurai.”

 

“For the last time, I wore that shirt  _ once _ !” 

 

Lance winks. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,  _ samurai. _ ”

 

Keith rolls his eyes and takes his mocha back to the front desk. Almost as soon as Keith leaves, Shiro walks in, returning from his lunch break. 

 

“Hey, kiddo,” Shiro says, tying on his apron. “How was rush hour?”

 

Lance shrugs. “Not too bad. A lot of the usuals came in, a couple people from out of town, surprisingly. Nothing interesting.”

 

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Really? Because I just saw Keith coming back with a steaming cup of mocha. And I was listening for a bit behind the shelves.”

 

Lance gasps dramatically. “You were eavesdropping?! Actually, I’m not surprised. Not eavesdropping would be very un-dadlike of you.” 

 

Shiro chuckles. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

 

He starts pouring coffee grounds into a plastic container. “Hey, did Keith seem okay when you were talking to him?”

 

“What do you mean by ‘okay’? He seemed to be pretty normal to me.”

 

Shiro glances around the shelves. No one was really there, except for a small group of girls reading books at one of the far tables of the cafe. Once he decides the coast is clear, he looks back at Lance. 

 

“I mean… did he seem okay, like, physically? Did you notice any bruises, marks or…?” Shiro whispers, holding Lance gently by the shoulder. “If you noticed anything, you  _ have _ to tell me. I don’t care if you promised Keith not to say anything, I’m basically his older brother and you have to tell me if he’s safe or not.”

 

Lance’s eyes widen in shock and surprise. “ _ Marks?  _ Bruises? What are you talking about?” He can feel his thoughts rushing through his head like a river as he realizes what Shiro is insinuating. “You think James is abusing him?” he whispers, as quiet as his voice can go. 

 

Shiro nods gently, as if he doesn’t want to admit it himself. “It’s a bold accusation, and trust me, I know that. It’s just Keith won’t tell me anything that’s going on with them because he’s afraid I’m going to do something insane. Even though I promised I wouldn’t do anything, I just feel like—”

 

“Like you need to know,” Lance finishes. 

 

“Exactly,” Shiro agrees. “So, you see anything?”

 

Lance shakes his head slowly. “No, nothing.”

 

Shiro sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God. Thank you, by the way. For telling me.”

 

“Y-Yeah. Of course.”

 

“Oh and,” Shiro snaps the container closed, “please don’t tell him I was talking to you. I don’t want to make our whole relationship weirder.” 

 

Lance nods. “Yeah, for sure. I won’t say anything.”

 

Shiro gives him a tired smile. “Thank you, for being someone he can trust.”

 

“Yeah,” Lance sighs. “I’d be anything for him,” he whispers.

 

Lance keeps his promise to Shiro, and doesn’t bring up the conversation he had with him to Keith, even to cover the awkward silence they had when they were closing up shop. Allura was still finishing her law degree, and had only taken up the store after her father passed away three years prior. Really, Shiro and Keith ran the store behind the scenes, getting more help lately from Lance. 

 

Shiro went out to buy the three dinner as a treat, so Lance and Keith were left to their own devices for some time. They sat on the floor, leaning against opposite shelves for support as they flipped through random books.  Their knees knocked into each other every so often, shooting electricity up through Lance’s veins. It was nice, in a way. To be reading like this. It was uncomfortable and cramped, but it was reassuring to know that someone else was there with him. 

 

Lance picks books from the shelf behind him at random, looking for particularly interesting or humorous passages. Each time he finds something that makes him laugh, he knocks his knee gently into Keith’s to get his attention and shows him the passage. Keith chuckles and then goes back to the novel he was reading, which he had randomly picked out from the shelf but seems to enjoy. 

 

Finally, when Lance runs out of books within arms reach on his side of the shelf, he reaches over Keith’s shoulder to grab another. His sweatshirt rides up, exposing the first three of his tally marks. Keith just so happens to glance over his shoulder at the time to see what Lance is doing and sees the three oxblood tallies, along with half of a fourth. His lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something, and Lance realizes what he’s done too late. As fast as he can, Lance pulls his arm back to his chest, grabbing a random novel. He avoids eye contact with Keith out of embarrassment and fear, even though he can tell Keith is actively seeking his gaze.  _ What will Keith think of me? _

 

People with more than three or four tally marks didn’t exactly… have a positive image. They were usually the villain or side character on soap operas, manipulative and cunning. They stole the girl away from the main man, flirting with her and making her fall for him out of spite for the main character. They were deceptive and dangerous, and one should always seek caution if going out with one. 

 

That’s why Lance hid his marks. 

 

He didn’t want to be seen as that person, someone manipulative and deceiving. When he started to get more marks, kids in high school would tease and avoid him, judging him by the marks on his skin instead of his true character. It was better when he started covering them; people would be okay with getting closer to him and he had many more friends than before. He fit in, and that’s what mattered to him the most. 

 

Now that Keith, someone he wanted to get close to, has seen his marks, he is truly horrified. Keith’s opinion on him has probably completely changed. Maybe he tolerated having Lance around before, but he  _ definitely  _ won’t want to be hanging around with him now. Hopefully Keith will be polite when he lets him go, and Lance will be able to mourn the loss of a friend instead of an enemy. 

 

“Hey, Lance?” Keith’s voice snaps Lance from his thoughts. “You okay?” 

 

His voice is timid, as if he’s afraid to instill the wrath of someone with that many marks. Realistically, he shouldn’t be afraid of Lance, since Lance really doesn’t have any power over him. Lance’s heart sinks. 

 

“Yeah,” he says back, shifting so their knees are no longer touching. He feels cold, but refuses to move. “I’m fine.”

 

Keith gulps. “Are you sure?” He searches for Lance’s eyes, but only sees his slightly curly brown hair, his eyes hidden from him. “I saw your marks.” This last part was added gently. If a breeze had come through the store at that exact moment, his words would have left with it. Lance’s chest tightens, and he squeezes his eyes shut. 

 

“I know,” Lance’s voice is unintentionally hoarse. He swallows down a cry. He  _ really _ doesn’t want to cry in front of Keith, especially now that he knows about the marks. 

 

“Are you okay?” Keith repeats. Lance hears him put down his book. Keith’s legs rub against the carpet. 

 

Lance remains silent, his eyes still shut. A million colors dance behind his eyes, colors he can’t even begin to name, in patterns he can’t even begin to decipher. He inhales. And exhales. 

 

Keith lets Lance sit in silence for a moment, but his worry and sheer curiosity gets the best of him. “How many are there?” he asks in a shaky voice. 

 

Lance takes several deep breaths before pushing himself around. Keith is sitting on his knees in the middle of the aisle, biting his lip. His eyes radiate worry and care. It’s kind of cute. Lance swallows thickly and mirrors the way Keith is sitting. On an impulse decision, he pulls up his left sleeve, showing off all ten of his marks. Each mark is a saturated red. They show up clear as day, the matte finish on them making them seem more ingrained in his skin. More ingrained in himself. 

 

He doesn’t see Keith’s expression when he gapes at the first seven marks, the final three still covered by the sleeve. Lance looks anywhere but at Keith: the lines of books, the worn carpet, the counter behind him. Lance doesn’t truly acknowledge that Keith even saw the marks until he feels his warm fingers trail down his arm. 

 

Lance winces involuntarily at the touch, unfamiliar with someone dragging their hand down his arm. Keith flinches away, and Lance finally brings himself to look at him. 

 

The look in Keith’s eyes isn’t horror or disgust, it’s  _ sympathy _ . Lance locks eyes with him and nods, given him unspoken permission to continue. Keith rubs his thumb over the first mark on his wrist, his touch getting lighter and lighter as he goes up Lance’s arm. His hand is rough and calloused, but Lance melts into his touch nevertheless. Lance can feel himself starting to sweat, despite the cold air in the store. 

 

Keith looks back up at Lance, sighing softly. “There’s… more than one,” he says lamely. 

 

Lance lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Yeah, there sure is, Samurai.”

 

Keith rolls his eyes, a small smile dancing onto his face. “You know what I mean.”

 

Lance’s face contorts into a frown, and Keith realizes the power of his words. “No, not in a bad way,” he says, finally pulling away from Lance’s arm. “I mean that you love a lot of people.”

 

Lance nods solemnly. “That I do.” 

 

Then Keith asks something unexpected. “What’s it like?”

 

It takes Lance by surprise.  _ What’s it like?  _ Lance didn’t really have an answer to that question. Keith clarifies when he notices the slight confusion on Lance’s face. 

 

“I mean, are you still happy? Even though they’re…” He doesn’t finish the thought, but Lance knows exactly what he means. 

 

“I guess? I’m happy that these people have found someone else to make them happy,” Lance answers carefully. 

 

“What about you though? Are you happy, y’know, without them?”

 

Lance grins brightly. “Yeah, of course I am.”

 

Keith pulls down Lance’s sleeve, concealing the marks once more. 

 

“I don’t think you are.”

 

Lance doesn’t have time to counter Keith’s claim though. Shiro comes into the store bearing food, and the two boys jump to their feet as soon as they hear the jingle of the bell. 

 

Keith, however, watches Lance the rest of the evening. How easily he smiles and laughs, how he cracks jokes in awkward silences and starts conversations. How easily he conceals and lives with the burden of the red marks on his skin. It makes Keith stay up that night, staring at a white plaster ceiling wondering: How beaten down do you have to be to act so happy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kinda short, sorry!! longer chapters to come, i promise
> 
> yell with me on tumblr: geckointhegarbage.tumblr.com  
> art tumblr: 88-20.tumblr.com  
> instagram: @88._.20


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something happens at thanksgiving dinner

Lance wakes in a cold sweat. His room is pitch black, his heart thumping hard and violent in his chest. He feels like he’s going to throw up, scream, cry, hit… Lance closes his eyes. He just breathes in. The crisp air hits him hard, but he chokes it down, and soon he is breathing at a normal pace again, his heart rate steady. Lance opens his eyes. 

 

The only light comes from the eerie yellow glow of the street lamps outside. His flowered curtains flutter in the gentle breeze, making the scene calm and blissful. Lance hates it. He sits up, pushing the thick comforter off of his shoulders and chest, exposing them. He still feels too warm and pulls it off completely, leaving him in just his sweats. 

 

He sits cross-legged in the silence of the night for a few minutes, trying to get his bearings with steady breaths. After some time, he thinks back to what made him wake up at 4:02 in the morning, according to the neon green of his alarm clock. 

 

Lance remembers a nightmare. He gets those often, so it wasn’t something to be shocked by. His mother tells him about all of these times when he would jolt awake as a kid in the middle of the night. He would crawl into her room and get into bed with her and his dad, or one of his siblings, especially Annaliese. 

 

Annaliese was his youngest sister. She still lived with his mama and papa back in Cuba, being almost ten years younger than him. She was extraordinary, always the daredevil. She would find cliffs to jump off of into the ocean, go scavenging for small sea creatures on the beach, and do every single dare given to her (even steal Luis’ favorite push toy, which was probably more dangerous than swimming with sharks). 

 

Most extraordinary of all: she did all of this while being deaf. She developed an ear infection just days after she was born. Several months later, she was proclaimed by the doctors to have completely lost her hearing. Lance’s mother and father were devastated, thinking that their daughter wouldn’t have the same opportunities in life as their other children. But Lance was the one to still have hope in his little sister. He learned ASL to speak with her, and would always listen to her and give her chances to speak in conversations with his loud family. Some of his  tios and tias didn’t understand ASL, and he would serve as translator, wanting her to feel like she had a voice.

 

She absolutely adored him. 

 

Lance smiled fondly, staring at the picture of them together from the last time he was in Cuba. It was when he graduated college, and he had only been able to go for a week. Seeing them was worth it though, no matter how much time he had. 

 

Lance clasps his hands together, trying to recall what the nightmare was about. He remembers being alone, being soaked in blood. He didn’t know if it was his or not. There was… someone else there with him. Lance can’t recall their features. He remembers crying, screaming for that person to stop whatever they were doing to him. Then the person threw a knife into his heart, and he woke up. 

 

Lance lays back down slowly. The blankets are freezing as he pulls them back onto himself. The fear from the nightmare is still jumping around in his head, refusing to let him go back to bed. Lance grabs the pillow next to him, and hugs it close to his body, closing his eyes. Several small tears fall down his face before he falls asleep.

 

═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══

 

Lance finally gets his break, several weeks after having his weird nightmare. Thanksgiving week was here, and Lance, Shiro, Keith, and Romelle were free from work Thursday and Friday. Lance is pumped: he gets to stay home, sleep, and spend time with Hunk and Pidge. It’s perfect. 

 

Until Hunk and Pidge bailed. 

“I’m sorry man! This was so last minute, and could be super big for us,” Hunk says as he and Pidge roll their suitcases out of the apartment. “I feel so bad for leaving you all alone.”

 

Lance forces himself to smile. “It’s really no big deal guys. You go get your big break. The tech con sounds… so fun.”

Pidge snickers. “You don’t have to pretend to be interested. Trust me, I’d  _ much  _ rather be at home than talking to a bunch of people.” She shoulders her heavy backpack. “It’s just-”

 

“-it could be Lion’s big break,” finishes Lance. “Don’t worry, it’s no problem!”

 

“Thanks Lance,” Hunk says. He pulls his best friend in for a hug. “We’ll see you next week, yeah?”

 

Lance leans down to hug Pidge. “Yeah, see you then.” 

 

He waves at them as they walk down the grubby hallway to the elevators. Lance truly wishes them the best of luck at the convention, but can’t help but feel disappointed that he has to spend Thanksgiving alone. 

 

The door clicks shut, and Lance collapses on the couch. The original plan was for them to gouge on pizza, Chinese, pasta, and a ton of other food while they binged the  _ Mission: Impossible  _ movies and made fun of them. Now, Lance needs to come up with a Plan B. The day before Thanksgiving. Fantastic. 

 

His phone buzzes on the coffee table. Guiltily, Lance starts praying that the convention was cancelled, or that they missed their flight. When he picks up his phone, however, he’s surprised. There’s a text from Keith on his screen.

 

**Keith:** hey james is having a few people over for dinner tomorrow. you want to come?

 

Lance smiles, pleasantly surprised. Keith was the one person he did not expect to have plans with. He opens the conversation and texts him back.

 

**Lance:** Sure! What time? And what’s the dress code?

 

Keith responds immediately. 

 

**Keith:** 8:00. casual. 

 

Keith also attaches James’ address. Lance scoffs. James? Really? He has to see that bastard? He debates telling Keith something came up, but he has a feeling things could go south for Keith, plus he already agreed he would come. Lance sighs, and clicks off his phone.

 

═════☩══♛══☩═════

 

Lance’s jaw drops as he pulls up to the address Keith sent him the night before. James’ house is a mansion. There is a large fountain in the middle of a huge circular driveway. Several cars are parked on the sides of it. Lance follows suit and parks in an empty space. He stuffs his keys in his pocket and approaches the giant oak front doors apprehensively.  _ Did Keith give me the right address?  _

 

Cautiously, Lance pushes the ornate doorbell. He can hear the  _ ding-dong  _ of the doorbell echoing through the house. Footsteps approach the doors softly, and they creak open, revealing Keith. 

 

If Keith looked good before, he is an absolute god now. 

 

His hair is slicked back into a ponytail. He is wearing all black, a black button up shirt with black jeans. The first few buttons on the black button up are undone, and the sleeves are rolled up on his forearms. 

 

Lance’s tongue is heavy in his mouth. He is completely and utterly unable to form coherent words. Being the meme loving fuck he is, the only sentence he think he can get out before possibly passing out is: “You look like a whole ass meal.” 

 

“Hey,” Keith grins at him, his left hand in his jean pocket. 

 

Lance blinks, not quite catching what Keith said. Hopefully his response will work and not seem too awkward. 

 

“Thanks for inviting me,” Lance blurts. 

 

Keith chuckles. Lance’s knees are going to give out any second now. “Yeah, of course.” Keith opens the doorway wider, giving Lance room to come inside. Lance takes the invitation, stepping into the mansion. 

 

“Everyone’s in the kitchen,” Keith says, walking towards a huge open space at the end of the foyer. 

 

To Lance’s left, there was a massive stairwell that went upstairs. On the right, there was a fancy sitting area, with a large painting of a flower garden over a beautiful fireplace. The fireplace by itself probably cost how much he makes in a year. 

 

At the end of a short open hallway, there is a long fancy wooden table. He can hear loud voices as he follows Keith, and assumes that the kitchen is right next to the dining room, hidden from his initial view by a wall. 

 

He is correct, and he gasps as he enters the enormous kitchen. There’s a huge granite island in the middle of the room, with top of the line stainless steel appliances in the walls. Lance has to remember to sneak a picture for Hunk. This has to be what his heaven looks like.

 

Many unfamiliar faces mill about the kitchen. Tall men in expensive clothing and women clutching designer bags chatter throughout the kitchen, all holding crystal glasses of wine. Keith lightly grasps Lance’s hand and leads him through the crowd to the back of the room, with Lance’s heart almost beating out of his chest. 

 

Lance finally sees some familiar faces, Shiro and Allura, at the back of the room, along with another man with thin glasses he doesn’t recognize. The three of them are laughing happily at something Shiro said. Keith taps Shiro’s shoulder to get his attention. The group turns and sees the two of them. 

 

“Hey Lance!” Shiro says, opening up the compact circle they were standing in for Lance. “How’s it going?”

 

“Good. You?”

 

“I’m doing well.” Shiro takes a sip from his glass. “Oh! I haven’t introduced my ex-boyfriend to you yet, have I?”

 

The other man Lance didn’t recognize turns around. “Ex-boyfriend? Really? Is that how you’re introducing me to people now?” The man rolls his eyes. “Hi, I’m Adam. I’m his husband.”

 

Lance and Adam shake hands. “Hey. I’m Lance.” 

 

“Nice to meet you.”

 

“You as well.”

 

Allura giggles, a little tipsy. “Ex-boyfriend! The epitome of comedy.” She smiles at Lance, and grabs Shiro’s arm. “Hi, Lonce.” She draws out his name, slightly swinging on Shiro’s arm.

 

“Hey Allura.”

 

Shiro laughs at her clutching onto his arm. “Drunk already? It’s not even 9:30 yet!”

 

Allura takes a long sip from her glass. “I deserve it, okay? Do you know how much work I put in at that store?”

 

Shiro rolls his eyes. “She goes off about how hard she works at the store every time she gets drunk,” he whispers to Lance. “Be prepared.”

 

Lance grins. “Don’t worry, I’ve heard her go off about it before.”

 

“Keith!” Allura raises her glass in his direction. “Be a dear and get me another one?”

 

Keith takes the glass from her outstretched hand. “As you wish, princess.” She hums in contentment, and hugs Shiro’s arm tighter. 

 

Keith taps Lance’s shoulder. “You want a drink?”

 

He nods, and Lance follows Keith to a small back counter that was lined with various bottles filled with types of alcohol Lance didn’t even know existed. Keith pours dark red wine into Allura’s glass, and slides another from the rack hanging above the counter. 

 

“What do you want?” Keith asks, gesturing to the many bottles on the counter. 

 

Lance shrugs. “Whatever you think is best. I don’t drink too often, I don’t really have a preference.” Keith hands him a glass of white wine. Lance thanks him, and the two walk back out to the group. 

 

While they were gone, Romelle arrived. She is chatting with a man Lance doesn’t know, probably one of James’ friends. Now that he thinks of it,  he hasn’t seen James anywhere. 

 

As they go back to Shiro, Adam, and Allura, Lance nudges Keith gently. Keith turns to him expectantly. 

 

“Where’s James?” Lance asks, taking a sip of the fruity wine. 

 

Keith sighs. “He said he had to stay a little late at the office. One of his coworkers is going to drive him here around nine.” 

 

Lance nods, silently taking another sip. “So he didn’t show up for his own party?” Lance registers that his tone a little on edge, but pushes that notion aside. 

 

Keith shoots Lance a look, “He’s busy, that’s all.” 

 

Lance notices that Keith doesn’t have a drink in his hands. “You’re not drinking,” Lance observes. 

 

Keith shrugs. “James doesn’t really like me drinking at these parties. It’s good for me, though. Keeps me from embarrassing myself.”

 

Lance feels the urge to comment on that, but stops himself before he says anything. The last thing he wants to do is fight with Keith. On Thanksgiving. 

 

“You aren’t showing your marks,” he says, staring at Lance’s unmarked forearm, the sleeves of his light blue shirt also rolled up.

 

“Yeah. I bought some of that Mark-Off goop and put it on. I didn’t want them to get in the way of tonight.”

 

“Why don’t you use that all the time?”

 

“It’s stupid expensive, plus a pain in the ass to apply. It took me a solid half hour to get this thick of a coat to dry.” 

 

Keith nods, but says nothing more. 

 

Across the room, a tall dark skinned man with startling hazel eyes makes eye contact with Lance. He stands with a group of women, all chattering haughtily. He looks Lance up and down, and softly raises the corners of his mouth. Before Lance can react, the man shoots him a wink and turns back to the women, joining back into their conversation. 

 

Lance’s heart is doing backflips in his chest. Keith eyes him suspiciously, looking between him and the man. Keith nods knowingly. 

 

“You got eyes for Kinkade, huh?” Keith smirks. 

Lance flushes a gentle pink. “What? A who? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He tries desperately to stop blushing, but the color in his cheeks just intensifies.

 

“Don’t worry,” Keith pulls Lance down a couple inches so his lips can reach Lance’s ear. “He seems to like you too,” Keith whispers. 

 

Lance’s heart halts on the backflips, and has now stopped completely. Lance can feel every word vibrating the air from Keith’s lips, each word feeling intimate, like they were just for him. It takes a lot of self control not to shiver. 

 

Keith lets go of Lance’s shirt suddenly, shoving his hands back into his pockets. His face pales slightly, and his mouth freezes open. His gaze is locked across the kitchen, towards where Lance entered earlier. Lance follows his eyes, and realizes who finally arrived. 

 

James stands in the crowd, smiling and laughing joyously with those who came to say hello. He shakes a couple hands pats several shoulders. A blonde woman follows him, wearing a red dress that is much too short and shows way too much cleavage. 

 

James finally meets eyes with Keith and walks past several other probably important men and women to get to Keith. Keith smiles hesitantly as James gives him a chaste kiss. 

 

“How’s the party been?” James asks Keith. He won’t even acknowledged that Lance was standing there. 

 

“Pretty good so far,” Keith responds. He taps his feet on the hardwood floor. “No fights.”

 

James chuckles. “No drinking?”

 

Keith shakes his head. “No.”

 

James leans down and kisses Keith’s forehead. “See? Don’t you find yourself enjoying the party more?”

 

Ironically, the woman comes back to James with two glasses of red wine in her hands, handing one to James. He thanks her, and takes a sip. 

 

Keith looks between him and the wine, then one fleeting look at Lance. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I guess I do.”

 

James wraps his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Love you.” 

 

Keith carefully wraps his arm around James’ waist. “Love you too.”

 

“Now, I want you to meet a few people-”

 

Keith is dragged away from Lance as the happy couple merge into a crowd of rich men and women. Keith gives Lance a look of apology before someone begins speaking to him. Lance gives him a two fingered salute, and goes back to find Shiro, Adam, and Allura. 

 

By the time Lance makes it back to the group, Allura is completely out of it. She has permanently attached herself onto Shiro’s arm, and was currently messing with the sleeves of his white button up shirt. Adam films her on Snapchat as she mumbles obscene things that she would  _ definitely  _ not say while sober. Luckily, Adam and Shiro had the sense to take away her glass, so hopefully she will detach herself from Shiro before dinner. 

 

“Hey,” Lance says as he merges back in with the group. “She still drunk as hell, huh?”

 

Adam giggles, zooming in on her face at an unflattering angle. “She’s getting better. I think she’s just being dramatic. She really only had a few glasses, she just likes to play it up.” 

 

Lance nods in understanding, and watches as Adam saves and posts the video on his story. 

 

“You still got feeling in your arm, Shiro?” Lance jokes. 

 

Shiro gives him a strained smile. “Somewhat. But I can’t feel my fingertips anymore.” 

 

“Get her off before you lose your hand too.”

 

Shiro laughs. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that.”

 

They continue to chat amongst themselves, making it clear that Lance wasn’t a part of their conversation. Lance leaves them to their own devices, feeling unwelcome in their charade.  He walks back out into the crowd, looking for a couple more people to talk to. Afterall, some of them are Keith’s friends. 

 

He stops by the wine rack for a moment to refill his glass, when the man with hazel eyes from earlier stops beside him. 

 

“How’re you enjoying the party?” he asks. His voice is deep and it rattles through Lance in a way that makes pouring the wine without spilling more difficult than it should be .

 

Lance corks the wine bottle, avoiding his gaze. “It’s very nice.”

 

The man takes a different bottle of wine to refill his drink. “I’m Ryan, by the way. Are you a friend of James?”

 

Lance finds the stem of his glass particularly interesting. “No. Keith’s.”

 

“Ah,” he corks his bottle and leans against the counter. He’s taller than Lance, his chin could easily brush the top of Lance’s wavy brown hair. And isn’t that a thought to file away for later.

 

“You here with a date?” Ryan’s glass scrapes against the marble countertop as he picks it up. 

 

Lance finally faces him. His hair is dark brown, the light bringing out gold accents in it. He’s tall and muscular, built like a football player. From how tight his dress shirt is under his blazer, Lance can tell he lived at the gym.

 

Lance can also tell that he’s attracted to him. 

 

Ryan looks at him through hooded eyes. “Or are you looking for one?”

 

Lance can feel his brain yelling at him to accept his offer. Lance hasn’t gone out with anyone in a while, and besides, it was just going to be a casual fling. No harm, no foul. 

 

But then he sees Keith. James still has his arm draped around him, even though he’s talking loudly with his friends and completely ignoring him. Keith makes eye contact with Lance through the swarm of people, and his mouth opens slightly when he sees who Lance is with. Before Lance can even blink, Keith is back to leaning into James and smiling gently, even though his eyes are still locked with Lance’s. 

 

Lance rethinks his answer. 

 

“Sorry, but I got a girl at home,” he says. “She’s a good one, too.” His eyes are still locked with Keith’s. 

 

Ryan notices, and peers over his shoulder. He sees Keith. “Oh,” he nods, “I see.”

 

He watches as Keith looks away from Lance, and kisses his boyfriend’s cheek. “You like him, huh?”

 

Lance’s eyes widen. “No!” he says much too quickly. “No, no I don’t!” 

 

Ryan smirks. “Uh huh. Even I can tell you got the hots for him.”

 

Lance places his glass on the counter and crosses his arms. “Do not,” he grumbles. 

 

Ryan sighs. “It’s really obvious, to tell you the truth.” He sips his wine delicately. “You look at him the way he used to look at James.” 

 

Now Lance was confused. “What’d you mean?”

 

Ryan looks around them, as if to make sure they weren't being watched. No one else was hanging by the wine rack anyway, they were all chatting in the kitchen or trickling into the dining room. When he decides it’s safe to speak, Ryan begins his story. 

 

“Up until about two years ago, Keith used to work at Garrison Systems. He was the receptionist, and took a lot of calls for the CFO. Which is James, by the way.” Ryan clears his throat, then continues. “Keith very obviously was into James. Like, James would do  _ anything  _ and Keith would immediately forget what he was thinking or doing.” 

 

Ryan chuckles. “This one time, James dropped his pen on the floor and leaned down to get it. Keith was bright red all over! James eventually caught onto it, and admitted to thinking Keith was cute. So, James asked him out to dinner one day after work, and that was that.” 

 

Ryan looks back to the couple, Keith still hugging James close to him. 

 

Lance slowly uncrosses his arms. “What do you mean, ‘used to look at him’? Don’t you… still see that now?”

 

Ryan scoffs. “You tell me. Does Keith look like he’s enjoying James’ company?”

 

Lance looks back at them, and understands exactly what Ryan was going at. Keith may look happy, holding onto his boyfriend tightly by the waist, but it was very clear something was just a little off. He was holding on too tightly, for one thing; it looked like he was clutching onto James for dear life. His smile didn’t radiate out his eyes, seeming forced and too fake. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his free hand, picking at the skin around his middle finger with his thumb. The skin around all of his fingers seemed broken and mottled, like he did that often. 

 

Ryan was right. Keith’s discomfort is very apparent now, he stands out next to James like a sore thumb. 

 

“No,” Lance realizes slowly. “No, he’s not.”

 

Ryan nods. “I’d be careful if you ever try and bring this up. James still loves him, no matter what you may think. He’ll still fight for him.”

 

Now it is Lance’s turn to laugh. “Fight for him? God, and steal Keith away from James? Yeah, that’s certainly not in my character.”

 

Ryan meets Lance’s eyes as he takes another sip of the dark liquid. “You never know.”

 

And just like that, Ryan melts back into the crowd. 

 

James calls everyone to the dining table for dinner not long after Ryan and Lance finished talking. Lance was still feeling Ryan’s words when he sat down at the enormous rectangular oak table. 

 

As he looks around the table, he realizes that there actually weren’t a lot of people there, maybe twenty or so. A few that came to the table late take their seats at smaller wooden tables laid out beside the main table. Lance snags a seat across from Keith, next to Allura. Allura has luckily sobered up a bit, and seems like she’ll make it through dinner without going face first into her stuffing. 

 

The food is already placed in elegant glass and ceramic dishes on the table. There were the basic Thanksgiving items: turkey, mashed potatoes, and stuffing. But there were also a couple of foods that were not so typical for Thanksgiving: steak, pasta, and various types of flaky tarts with a meat filling in the middle. The scent of each dish wafts around the table. They all smell delicious. Lance knew James had money, but not  _ private chef  _ money. 

 

Finally, James enters the dining room last. He speaks with a woman in a white apron, whom Lance assumes is the chef, before taking his seat. To Lance’s surprise, he doesn’t sit next to Keith. He sits several people down, even though the group of men and women purposely left a seat for him next to Keith. This strikes Lance as odd, and when he glances at Keith, he can tell Keith thought that James was going to take the open chair. 

 

James lets everyone grab food before he stands up in front of the room, his chair scraping the hardwood floors. He clinks his glass several times with a fork to get the attention of those in the room, most of which immediately quiet their conversations. 

 

“Hello everyone!” he greets, his smile reaching his eyes. “Happy Thanksgiving! Thank you all for being here, I’m so happy you could all make it. Before we get started with dinner, I just have something I’d like to say to someone very special to me.” 

 

Then he smiles at Keith, and Lance’s heart  _ stops.  _

 

_ This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening- _

 

“Keith Akira Kogane,” James’ grin can be heard through his words, “You’ve been in my life for two years. Two beautiful years. You make me so happy, Keith. Out of everyone in this room-no, the world-  _ you  _ are the one I love the most. We’ve had our bad times, but we have so many good ones as well. You’re the light of my life.” 

 

James hastily places his glass on the table, and rummages through his coat pocket. He takes out a small, royal blue velvet box. The chair moving against the floor breaks the silence in the air as everyone watches James walk over to Keith’s seat and get down on one knee. 

 

“Keith, my love, will you do the honor of being my husband?” 

 

The entire room gasps loudly, even though the build up to the proposal was made painstakingly obvious. Lance hasn’t taken in a breath in over a minute, his hands are clammy, and he’s starting to sway.  _ Please say no, he’s going to hurt you. Keith, please say- _

 

“No,” Keith whispers, so quiet that Lance thought he misheard him. 

 

However, by the downfallen expression on James’ face, it’s clear Lance heard him correctly. 

 

“I-I’m sorry? What was that?” James asks sweetly, practically shoving the diamond studded gold ring in Keith’s face. 

 

Keith takes a deep breath. “I said no.”

 

James’ face turns from giddy to disappointed in the blink of an eye. “You… said no.” 

 

Keith stands up, backing away towards the large sliding door. “I’m sorry James. I-”

 

James holds out a hand for him to stop speaking. He rises to his feet. The few guests that were still recording the historic moment on their phones slowly lower them. 

 

“Keith, babe, can I talk to you for a moment?” James’ voice is tight, like he’s stifling anger. Keith glances around the room, as if looking for an escape. Solemnly, he nods. 

 

James takes him by the hand a little too roughly. Looking back to the group of stunned guests, he plasters a fake smile on his face. “Everyone, please eat! Keith and I will only be a moment.” 

 

Then he drags Keith out towards the foyer. Lance is the only one to notice that Keith was picking at his fingernails. 

 

The guests slowly start to begin their conversations again, only this time they were more hushed and secretive. Lance immediately turns his attention to Allura, who is still shocked at the scene that just unfolded. She starts speaking as she gets her share of rolls. 

 

“Did-did you see that?” she whispers. “That must have been the most uncomfortable thing for Keith, poor thing.”

 

Lance nods, reaching for the turkey. “That must’ve been awful.”

 

“God, I thought James knew about his anxiety. This was a horrible thing for Keith to be apart of, I’ll have to check up on him after dinner.”

 

Lance gasps gently, “Anxiety?”

 

Allura nods, her mouth full of turkey. She swallows and says, “It’s been bad for a while. Luckily, he’s been talking to a therapist and getting medication. He’s been pretty open about it for the past year or so, I think to avoid situations like this.”

 

Lance glances at the foyer, James and Keith nowhere in sight. “This was definitely not the way he would’ve wanted a proposal to be done then.”

“Oh, for sure. He’s not a very open and public person. Keith’s not really a fan of big things, which is why I think he enjoys working at the store. It’s a simple life for him, plus he loves reading, and the employee discount,” she jokes, trying to lighten the mood. 

 

Lance just hums in response, thinking.  _ If Keith was open about it, and James knew, why did he propose to him like this anyway? And why would Keith say no? _

 

_ Why did Keith say- _

 

Yelling erupts from the foyer. The high ceiling only makes it worse, echoing the voices into the dining room. Everyone turns in their chairs, conversation silenced. Lance has had  _ enough.  _ He doesn’t care that Keith thinks that James is good for him, he doesn’t care that James just proposed to him. All he cares is that Keith said no, and the yelling doesn’t sound like the most appropriate thing to go down after a proposal. 

 

He jumps up from his chair, ignoring Allura’s protests to sit back down. Lance struts into the foyer, and sees James pointing his fingers and practically  _ exploding  _ with anger at Keith, who is just standing against the wall, silent tears slowly falling down his face. 

 

“How could you, Keith? In front of company? In front of all your friends, all  _ my  _ friends? I had everything  set up perfectly, every move was mapped! The  _ least  _ you could’ve done was said yes, then told me in private a no. I would’ve understood that, but this? Unacceptable!” 

 

Lance watches in horror as James yells at Keith, Keith not trying to retaliate. Finally, when James opens his mouth a final time, Lance snaps. He sandwiches himself between James and Keith. 

 

“Leave. Him. Alone,” Lance growls. 

 

James gapes at Lance, open mouthed. “ _ Excuse me? _ ”

 

“I said,” Lance stands up straighter, towering over James. “Leave Keith alone.”

 

James scoffs, annoyed. “This isn’t a conversation involving you,  _ Lance _ ,” he spits Lance’s name out like venom. “This is between me and my boyfriend.” He eyes Keith behind Lance, who was frozen in place.

 

Lance glares at him. “This is how you talk to your boyfriend? I understand that he turned down your  _ very public  _ proposal, but this is no way to treat him! He’s done nothing wrong!” 

 

James is repulsed. “How dare-he said no, Lance! In front of everyone! I have a reputation to keep up, and this-he-,” James sputters, spit flying from his mouth. “Keith ruined everything!” 

 

“He did nothing wrong! It’s okay for him to say no!”

 

James clenches his fists tighter, like he’s holding back a punch. “He’s my boyfriend, he should always say yes!”

 

Lance takes a step closer to James, towering over him. “He is a person. He can  _ always  _ say no.”

 

James’ face is bright red. Out of the corner of his eye, Lance can see several worried guests staring out behind the corner of the wall nervously. He tries to calm himself down, especially as he hears Keith take in several shaky breaths behind him.

 

James notices the guests too, horrified. He looks back at Lance. “Get out!” he demands. “Both of you. I’ve had enough of this…,” he glances back at the guests. “Pettiness.” 

 

“Fine,” Lance says lowly. He turns to Keith, who grasps his arm tightly. 

 

“Let’s go,” Keith whispers into Lance’s shirt. Lance wraps an arm around him as they wordlessly exit the house, not bothering to look back. Lance makes sure to slam the stupidly large door shut, making it rattle. 

 

The cold bites at their skin as they go to Lance’s car. Keith still hasn’t let go of Lance’s arm, tears still flowing down his face and soaking Lance’s shirt. Their feet crunch at the light frost on the ground. When they get to the truck, Keith breaks off from Lance and takes a seat on the passenger side, trying to wipe away his tears. 

 

Lance closes his door and starts the car, deeply regretting not bringing a coat. The truck’s heat didn’t work, and the cold is going to get them both sick if Lance doesn’t hurry home. Luckily, his apartment isn’t too far from James’ house, and they should be able to make it in less than half an hour. 

 

The radio starts in the truck automatically, filling the car with happy go-lucky pop music. Lance shuts off the radio and turns to Keith.

 

Keith was still trying to stifling the tears flowing from his eyes, but they just kept coming. His eyes were red and puffy, and he chokes down a sob. He doesn’t look at Lance, choosing to stare out the window instead. Keith presses his forehead against the freezing glass of the truck window, not caring about the temperature. He’s finally given up. 

 

“Keith…,” Lance whispers. “I’m sorry.”  

 

Keith’s voice shakes when he speaks. “It-It’s not your fault.” His voice is thick and runny with tears. 

 

“Still. I was fighting with him and… I didn’t mean for it to become a scene.” 

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Lance lets the silence envelope them for a moment. “You want to come to my place? We can get food and stuff if you want. I just thought you may want company. Totally up to you though.”

 

Keith’s gaze out the glass hardens. “Drive.”

 

Lance takes that as a yes, and begins to back out of the driveway. They’re on the freeway in minutes, Keith still staring out the car window. Lance put back on the radio, just to break the uncomfortable silence. They arrive at Lance’s place in what feels like minutes. By the time they get there, Keith is able to stop the tears. He is still taking shaky and uneven breaths, however, and his hair is now a mess. He doesn’t care. 

 

Keith follows Lance out of the car silently, slamming the door shut and crossing his arms against the cold as he follows Lance up several flights of metal stairs to his apartment. Lance unlocks the door and turns on the lights, immediately cranking up the heat. Keith closes the door behind him, looking around. 

 

“I know it’s not much,” Lance says as he rubs his hands together. “But-”

 

“It’s nice,” Keith interjects. “Thank you.”

 

Lance sighs as he smiles gently. “O-Of course.” Lance leans against the tiled kitchen counter. “You want a change of clothes? You could probably fit in mine.”

 

Keith bites his lip, in thought. “Yeah, that’d be nice,” he replies after a moment. 

 

Lance beckons for Keith to follow him, and takes him into his cluttered room. Lance’s bed was still unmade from this morning, and there is a  pile of books and photographs from his family he hasn’t bothered to pick up. 

 

“Sorry for the mess,” Lance mumbles as he rolls open his closet door. Keith stands awkwardly behind him as Lance picks up a pair of black sweat pants and a black hockey sweatshirt. 

 

“I think these should fit,” Lance says as he hands the clothes to Keith. “The bathroom is just next door. I’ll meet you in the living room when you’re done, ‘kay?”

 

Keith nods slowly, and walks out of the room with the clothes. Lance hears the bathroom door click closed, and collapses on the bed. This was definitely not in his Thanksgiving plans. He shakes himself out of it, heand quickly changes himself, into gray sweats and his favorite black hoodie. 

 

Lance sighs as he walks into the living room, the vent above the couch pumping heat into the room. He flops down onto the worn fabric, pulling a blanket above the couch over himself. The remote is within arms reach, and he starts surfing through channels when Keith comes out. 

 

Lance should  _ not  _ feel this attracted to someone in sweatpants. 

 

Keith has taken his hair out of his ponytail, so it flows freely around his shoulders. The sweatshirt and sweatpants are a little too big, and drip off of his thin frame. He tugs at the sleeves of the sweatshirt, even though he doesn't really need to. They already cover almost the entirety of his hands, except for the slightly pink tips of his fingers. 

 

“Hey,” Lance breathes, shocked that he can make any noise that isn’t a whine. 

 

“Hey,” Keith whispers. Lance pats the couch cushion next to him, and opens up the blanket for Keith. Keith hesitantly takes a seat, awkwardly pulling the blanket over himself. 

 

Lance continues to surf through channels, until he settles on one that is showing  _ Coco.  _ They watch the movie for a few minutes, Keith biting his lip nervously next to Lance. Lance decides to give Keith time to cool off for a moment, before talking to him. By the time Miguel has started breaking into the tomb of his grandfather, Lance builds up the courage to speak. 

 

“You okay?” Lance asks Keith timidly. He notices how Keith stops twiddling his thumbs. 

“I…,” Keith looks down at the blanket, studying the wool. “I’m not… the best, to be honest.”

 

“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

 

“James and I were together for two years. The proposal was going to come at some point soon, and I knew it. It’s just- I think if he asked me a month ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat, but now…,” Keith trails off, swallowing thickly. 

 

“Now you don’t know,” Lance finishes for him. Keith nods. 

 

“I think that, after the whole blow up he had on me at the bookstore, he drew the last straw. I think that’s the day that… that I stopped loving him,” he adds the last part as quietly as he could.

 

Lance raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Is that why-”

 

“-why he freaked out when I said no? Partly,” Keith says. “Also because I found out a few weeks ago he’s cheating on me.”

 

“He’s what?!”

 

Keith nods. “With that blonde who came with him to the party. That’s why he’s been ‘working late’. The proposal was supposed to mend us, bring us back together. But I’ve had enough.”

 

Lance leans back in his seat. “Wow,” he whispers. 

 

“Mhmm,” Keith hums, sniffling. 

 

“You deserve better, you know.”

 

Keith  _ laughs,  _ though it is hollow and emotionless. “Trust me Lance, James is the best I’ve had. I don’t deserve any better.”

 

Lance is taken aback. “Of  _ course  _ you do!” Lance moves suddenly, taking Keith’s hands in his. “You are the sweetest person I’ve ever met! You invited me to dinner and you make working in that store bearable. You covered my shift that one time I had to go to the doctor, and you basically run the whole store!”

Keith shakes his head in protest, trying to pull his hands away, but Lance holds them tightly, stroking his thumb over the fabric covering his knuckles. “You work so hard, getting there at the crack of dawn every morning and leaving hours after the sun sets. You are  _ amazing _ and you deserve a guy who sees that.” 

 

Lance doesn’t notice until too late. A single tear falls from Keith’s face, dropping with a soft  _ thump _ into his lap. 

 

“Oh,” Lance breathes, “Keith.” He raises his hand and rolls his thumb over Keith’s warm cheek, wiping a following tear away. 

 

Keith smiles under Lance’s touch. “Thank you,” he whispers, leaning into Lance’s hand. “Thank you so much, Lance.”

 

Lance smiles back warmly. “Of course.” 

 

` Keith is smiling but tears still dribble down his face. 

 

“You okay?” Lance asks, finally bringing his hand down and loosening his grip on Keith’s hand. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

“No,” Keith chokes out, wiping away tears with his sleeve. “I just realized what I’ve been missing, with James.” 

 

Lance takes a deep breath. “You want a hug?”

 

Keith nods hesitantly. Lance opens his arms and Keith falls into them, digging his nose into Lance’s sweatshirt. Keith wraps his arms tightly around Lance’s waist, and sobs. 

 

Lance pulls Keith as close to his body as he can, and decides that just Keith’s chest isn’t close enough. He leans back, and pulls Keith up to the crook of his neck. Keith’s chest is resting on his, Keith’s legs tangled with Lance’s. Keith breathes Lance in, still gripping his waist. Lance raises a hand and runs it gently through Keith’s hair, whispering soothing words to him. 

 

Keith’s cries slowly quiet down, until he’s just lying against Lance’s chest. Lance has his eyes closed, but is still running his fingers lazily through Keith’s inky black hair. Keith carefully moves his head, tucking himself closer to Lance. 

 

“Thank you,” Keith says again, his words fanning over Lance’s neck. 

The only indication Keith gets that Lance heard him is the tightening of his grip on Keith’s waist, and a gentle hum from his throat. Keith gently adjusts his position on Lance’s chest, and after struggling to keep his eyes open for a few moments, he closes them. 

 

┊      ┊    ┊   ┊ ┊     ┊

┊      ┊    ┊   ┊ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚  ✩

┊      ┊    ┊   ✫

┊      ┊    ☪⋆

┊ ⊹  ┊

✯ ⋆   ┊ .  ˚

˚✩

Lance wakes up first. 

 

The first thing he feels in the morning is the heavy, warm weight on his chest. His eyes flicker downward and are met with a mop of black hair. Keith’s hands are closed in gentle fists, tucked onto Lance’s chest. Each breath Keith takes fans warmly across Lance’s neck and collarbone. Lance looks around the rest of his apartment, the gentle glow of the morning sun streaming in.

 

Luckily, Hunk installed an automatic shut off on the TV, and it is dim. Lance closes his eyes for a moment, before looking back down at Keith. He sleeps so blissfully, it’s like he is an angel. His lips are parted slightly, though he takes his breaths through his nose. The red around his eyes has faded. The tip of his nose is tinged pink from the cold. 

 

Suddenly, he groans gently, and hugs his arms around Lance’s neck, pulling him closer. Lance absolutely melts. He starts to drag his fingers lazily up and down Keith’s back, lulling him further to sleep. Lance knocks his head back, breathing in the cool air. He is so whipped for this boy. 

 

That’s when he feels it. The heat in his wrist. 

 

He immediately stops running his fingers along Keith’s back, his eyes widening. Carefully, without waking Keith he pulls back his sleeve. 

 

The burning begins instantly. Before he can even see the tally, he grits his teeth. Pain sears across his shoulder, like someone was pressing a hot iron into his skin. It takes all of his strength not to scream. 

Lance strains, his breaths becoming short and labored. He looks down at Keith, who was still comfortably asleep. Lance squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. Slowly, the pain dies down. Lance opens his eyes. He brings his hand up to his face and touches his cheek, feeling the damp skin. He didn’t even notice he was crying. 

 

Lance sniffs quietly, and pulls back the rest of his sleeve, revealing a sliver of the new mark.

 

Just like the others, it is a deep, dark red. 

 

Lance doesn’t fall back asleep. 

 

He lays on the couch, his entire arm exposed, as Keith sleeps soundly. Lance groans, and rubs his eyes with his marked arm. Even though he can’t see them, since he never did wash off the Mark-Off stuff, he can feel them eating at him and mocking him. 

 

The new tally at the top of his shoulder still burns, though not as painfully as before. It is the only one that is visible. Lance pulls down his sleeve. 

 

On his chest, Keith groans, shifting himself. Lance pauses and watches as Keith’s eyes blink open lazily. Lance finishes pulling down his sleeve and drops his arm back down.

 

“Hey, sleepy head,” Lance says softly, his voice slightly raspy from sleep. “You sleep well?”

 

Keith blinks up at him, still not fully awake. He hums in response, rubbing his face with his hand. 

 

“Yeah, me too,” Lance jokes. 

 

After a moment, Keith starts to sluggishly push himself off of Lance, much to Lance’s disappointment. He yawns into his sleeve, and runs his hands through his bedhead. “‘m sorry,” Keith says, his voice rough. 

 

Lance bites the inside of his cheek. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

Keith stands up and stretches his arms, sighing. Lance stands up and does the same, then folds the blanket. He goes to the window at the end of the apartment to open the blinds when he laughs giddily. 

 

“Keith!” he calls excitedly. “Look!”

 

“What-,” Keith begins to say, but then sees what Lance is so excited about. Pure white snow is falling from the overcast sky, coating the ground. Lance presses his hands to the frosted glass, smiling as snowflakes fall past the window. 

 

“It’s snowing!” Lance exclaims, standing on the tips of his toes like a little kid. “It’s snowing, Keith!”

 

“I can see that,” Keith chuckles, crossing his arms and gazing out into the flurry of white. “First snow of the year.”

 

Lance nods. “Today’s going to be a good day. It always is when it snows.”

 

Keith doesn’t respond, not sure what else to say. They stand watching the snow for a few minutes, until Lance’s stomach growls. 

 

Lance tears his eyes away from the window to look at Keith. “Want breakfast?” he asks cheerily, automatically in a brighter mood from the snow. 

 

Keith hesitates before nodding. “Sounds great.”

 

“Eggs and bacon sound good?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Lance giggles as he walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge. “Good, because that’s the only breakfast foods I know how to make. It would be either that or heating up Hunk’s leftover Indian food from three days ago.”

 

Keith smiles, about to laugh, when he winces in pain. He takes a sharp intake of breath, shutting his eyes. Lance puts the eggs down in a bowl and looks at him curiously. 

 

“Keith?” he asks cautiously. “You okay?”

 

Keith opens his eyes to look back at Lance.    
  


“Y-Yeah,” he replies. “Just hit my hand on the counter, that’s all.”

 

Lance looks from the counter to him, and back again. “Okay,” he says, accepting Keith’s answer warily. 

 

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

 

Lance makes them both eggs and bacon, and they eat in comfortable silence. They both finish their breakfasts silently, and leave their dishes by the sink. 

 

“Hey, you want to shower or brush or teeth or something before you go?” Lance asks timidly as they walk out of the kitchen. “I got a spare toothbrush if you’d like.”

 

Keith nods. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

 

“Cool.” 

 

Lance hands him the toothbrush from under the bathroom sink and shows him how the shower works. 

 

“Lilly is tempermental. Hopefully she’ll give you hot water. It snowed today, so she should give it to you. Snow’s good luck,” Lance says nervously.

 

“Lilly?”

 

“Hunk named the shower. The old lady who had this apartment before us was named Lilly, and Hunk and Pidge like to say the reason the shower is so fucked up is because she pissed off the dude who would repair the boiler.” 

 

“She sounds… great.”

 

“She was a racist.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Lance opens the door to the linen closet across from the bathroom and takes out a towel. He hands it to Keith. “Do you want another change of clothes? You seem to… fit into my clothes pretty well. I’m sure my jeans or whatever would fit you fine.” Lance rubs the back of his neck. “If-If you want to. If you’re cool with your clothes from yesterday, that-that’s fine too.”

 

Keith shakes his head. “I don’t want to be too much trouble.”

 

“It’s no problem, really.”

 

They stand there awkwardly before Lance finds a way to save the conversation. “So… new clothes?”

 

Keith nods slowly. “Sure.”

 

“Okay, I’ll be right back!” Lance runs into his room and starts to dig through his clothes, praying he can find ones that are clean. Finally, he finds a pair of clean light wash jeans and a blue turtleneck sweater. He makes a small noise at the back of his throat as he runs back to Keith, and dumps the clothes into his arms. “I hope these work.” 

 

Keith nods. “Yeah, they should.” He looks up from the clothes. “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t mention it.”

 

Keith shoots him a small smile as he closes the bathroom door. As soon as the small crack of yellow light from the bathroom is no longer visible, Lance allows himself to collapse against the wall. He shimmies down the wall with his back, until he is sitting on the floor, only being supported by the slightly paint chipped wall.  _ Holy. Shit. _

 

Lance has to fight himself to keep from grinning ear to ear. It took  _ so  _ much willpower to not implode the entire time Keith was with him. Last night was a disaster, and he hopes that, now that the tears are gone, Keith is feeling at least a little better about himself. 

 

But Lance can’t deal with that now. Now, he has to do something about the stupid tally mark on his arm. He stumbles over himself getting to his feet, and sprints into his room in two strides, almost knocking himself out as he skids to a stop at the small window. 

 

Lance almost trips as he skids to a stop in front of his floor length mirror in the back corner. Immediately, he pulls up his hoodie sleeve to attempt to reveal the mark. He twists and contorts himself to try and see it at a good angle, but every move he makes keeps getting it covered by the thick bunch of sleeve. 

Grumbling to himself, he pulls off the hoodie, leaving his torso bare. He sighs, finally able to see the mark and all of its hideous glory. It practically yells at him, telling him he’s doing it again, being stupid and falling for someone so easily. He tells it to shut up. 

 

It takes him a second to realize it. He’s about to pull back on his sweatshirt when he sees it. The oxblood red that had stared at him last night was gone. It was now the only mark on his arm that was a jet black.

 

_ It was black.  _

 

Lance’s heart races, and he raises a shaky hand to run his finger over the mark. He looks at his fingers, surprised not to see any ink coming off of the mark. He rubs it again, harder, refusing to believe that this was real. He keeps scrubbing at the mark, desperate to believe that this is a trick, that there is no way that this could be real. Lance finally pulls his hand away, nothing on his fingers and the mark still as black as it was before. He lets himself lower his arm and laugh. Just laugh. This was the best moment of his entire sad, empty life and he’ll be damned if he can’t enjoy it.

 

Lance doesn’t realize how long he was standing there, in front of the mirror. He’s been so preoccupied with the mark that he doesn’t realize that the water from the shower was turned off five minutes ago, and that the bathroom door is creaking open. 

 

Lance is still staring at the mark and smiling when Keith walks into his room. 

 

Lance doesn’t notice him at first, his eyes fixated on the mark. It is only when Keith comes into the view of the mirror that Lance’s eyes widen in fear. Hastily, he jumps to his feet, pulling his arm back and pushing his chest out in a desperate attempt to cover up the raven black tally. 

 

Keith blinks away, staring at the patchy carpet, the wall, a pile of clothes. Anywhere but Lance’s face. 

 

“I, uh,” Keith stammers, “have the clothes from last night.”

 

Lance nods, scrambling to put on his hoodie. He slips it over his head, and as his eyes peak over the collar of it, he swears he sees Keith looking him up and down. Lance shakes the thought out of his head, and pulls the sweatshirt down. 

 

Lance takes the bundle of clothes from Keith’s arms, and places them on his bed. While doing so, he avoids looking at Keith in his sweater and jeans. Lance looks back at Keith, whose hands are now buried into his front pockets. 

 

“So, um, about last night,” Lance starts. Keith tenses. “You feeling a little better?”

 

“I… I don’t know,” Keith replies honestly. “I don’t really know how to feel now.”

 

“Are you sad? Angry?”

 

Keith shrugs. “Just… depressed, I guess.”

 

Lance nods in understanding. “What’re going to do now?”

 

“Probably go home. Talk to Shiro. Get my stuff back from James and… just move on, I guess.”

 

“Move on? Keith, you were in a relationship with this guy for two years. Don’t you think you need some kind of closure or something?”

 

Keith shakes his head quickly. “I don’t know Lance, okay? I just need some time alone. To think.”

 

Lance looks at him, sure that he has to say  _ something  _ to Keith. But he doesn’t. 

 

“Okay,” Lance says in a small voice. “Okay.”

 

Keith sighs, knitting his eyebrows together. “Thank you. For last night and this morning. You helped a lot, keeping me from dying and all.”

 

Lance laughs softly. “Yeah. I guess I did a killer job at that.”

 

Keith spots his clothes from the party at the far corner of Lance’s bed and grabs them. “I guess I’ll see you at work next week?”

 

Lance nods. “Yeah. Call me if you need anything, anytime. I’ll be here all week.”

 

Keith hums quietly. The two exit Lance’s room silently, Lance guiding them to the front door. He grabs his keys from the counter before Keith stops him. 

 

“It’s okay,” he says. “I can get an Uber.”

 

“Nuh uh, I’m driving you home. What kind of date would I be, if you stayed the night and made you take an Uber home? I’m a gentleman!” 

 

Keith smiles. “Okay.”

 

They jog down the stairs and to Lance’s truck, Lance still wearing his sweats. He realizes this just as they hop in the car, gritting his teeth. Too late to run back and change now. 

 

Lance starts the car, and turns up the radio as he backs out of the parking space. He turns onto the road as Keith gives him his address, about a ten minute drive from Lance’s apartment. They drive without speaking to one another, letting the music fill the car. Keith stares out the window like he was the night before, except now he was biting his lip to keep from grinning. Lance doesn’t notice. 

 

Lance pulls up in front of Keith’s apartment complex, and Keith starts to get out of the truck. 

 

“You want me to walk you in?” Lance asks. 

 

“No, it’s cool,” Keith says. “You’re still in sweats anyway,” he teases. 

 

Lance flushes pink, embarrassed. “Shut up, Kogane.You’re absolutely  _ sure  _ you’re okay right?” 

 

“Yes, Lance. I’m going inside, drinking a fuck ton of tea and calling Shiro. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

 

Keith closes the door, but Lance rolls down the window to keep nagging him. 

 

“And I mean anything, mister! Even if you just need to crack an egg I’ll drive over here and do it.”

 

“I’m not dying, Lance.”

 

Lance shrugs. “Still. In case you need it.”

 

Keith sighs. “Bye, Lance.”

 

Lance finally gives up. “Bye, Samurai.”

 

With that, Keith turns to walk to his apartment, and Lance rolls up his window. Lance watches longingly as Keith walks to the glass front doors of the building, and waves at Lance. Lance waves back, feeling the mark and his feelings solidify as he drives home. 

 

As soon as Lance scrambles up to his apartment, he calls Hunk. Yes, Hunk is on a business trip in Europe. Yes, Hunk is currently five hours ahead of him, and is probably in a meeting. No, that isn’t going to stop Lance from calling him and screaming. 

 

Hunk picks up on the third ring. 

 

“Lance, I swear to God, I’m about to eat the best sandwich in my entire life and if you aren’t about to be abducted by aliens I’m going to fucking-sorry ma'am-”

 

“Keithsleptoverlastnight,” Lance blurts, running his words together. “And wore my clothes. And we slept together.”

 

Lance can hear Hunk choking on his sandwich. “He what?!”

 

“Wait no not that-”

 

“You slept with him?!” Hunk shrieks over the phone. 

 

“We didn’t have sex, Hunk!”

 

“Oh,” Hunk sounds slightly disappointed at the lack of drama that could’ve been added to the situation, “So, just normal sleeping?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Ugh, boring. But continue.”

 

Lance flops onto the couch, speaking animatedly. “Well, he had invited me over to his boyfrie-ex-boyfriend’s place last night for Thanksgiving dinner. The whole gang was there, all of the people from Altea Books and a ton of his boy-ex-boyfriend’s snotty friends. Though one of them was pretty fine. Anyway, we all sit down at dinner and his b- _ ex _ -boyfriend proposes to him! In the middle of dinner! He said no, and then some other stuff went down and he ended up at our place. He was still in his fancy clothes and shit so I let him borrow some of mine for the night. And then we just kinda cuddled up together on the couch and…” Lance pants, trying to catch his breath. 

 

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Hunk says. “Sorry ma’am,” he quickly apologizes again. “That’s so much  _ tea. _ ”

 

Lance nods, even though Hunk can’t see him. “You’ve missed so much.” 

 

“God, remind me to never leave for this long again.”

 

“Will do.”

 

Lance hears some shuffling from Hunk’s side, and then a loud shriek. That means Hunk told her. There’s more shuffling and muffled yelling before she gets the phone. 

 

“Please tell me you used protection,” she exclaims. “If you get someone pregnant, even if it’s a guy, I’m going to kick you out-”

 

“We didn’t have sex.”

 

“Oh,” Pidge sounds just as disappointed as Hunk did, which makes Lance want to reevaluate his friend situation. 

 

“He came over because he was feeling down and we fell asleep on the couch together. That’s all.”

 

“Mhmm. Right. And I like dick.”

 

“Pidge, seriously, that’s exactly what happened.”

 

“What was that?” her voice is a little muffled, her hand covering the microphone for dramatic effect. “I can’t hear you through all this bullshit!” she yells, a bit too loud for the room she’s in. A chorus of shushing is heard from her end, while she violently apologizes. 

 

“Okay, listen, we gotta go. But when we come back Sunday, you’re telling us  _ everything _ . All the juice. To the last drop.”

 

Lance laughs. “Yeah, will do Pidgeon.”

 

“Go die.”

 

“Tolerate you too, see you in hell.”

 

Lance sighs, and throws his cell phone onto the couch. He rubs his eyes, and tries to keep himself from grinning. He fails miserably. Lance finally realizes that he hasn’t showered all day, and drags himself to the bathroom. Before he goes inside, though, he notices something on the mirror. A Post-It note. 

 

Lance first assumes that it was a product idea from Hunk or Pidge, since they insisted that the Post-It’s in the shower could help them write down their ideas when they have them. But then he remembers that it wasn’t there last night. Or before Keith’s shower. 

 

He flicks on the light switch, the lights flickering for a few moments before coming to life and bathing the room in a yellow glow. The yellow Post-It stands out on the mirror now, as well as the black ink a note is written in. 

 

_ Thanks for letting me stay the night. Both you and Lilly were very sweet ;) _

_ - _ _ Samurai  _ _ Keith _

 

Lance squeals giddily, gently taking the note down from the old mirror. He traces his fingers over each of the black letters, lingering on the word “sweet”. 

 

His mark burns. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this wasn't a regular update!! i'm traveling and the wifi in the house i'm at sucks :( back to thursday updates next week!! 
> 
> tumblr: geckointhegarbage.tumblr.com  
> art tumblr: 88-20.tumblr.com  
> instagram: 88._.20


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith is sick and has no christmas plans. also they go grocery shopping.

Lance practically dances to work on Monday. 

 

He’s clicking his heels like damn Dorothy from  _ The Wizard of Oz  _ and prancing his way around his apartment like a stupid ballerina. Hunk and Pidge find it hilarious. 

 

He glides through his morning routine with ease, stopping in front of his mirror to blow a kiss to the note that was in between the mirror and its frame. Lance gets to work fifteen minutes early, in a much too happy mood for a day that is almost thirteen degrees below freezing. 

 

Lance gets to the cafe and sheds his thick coat, tying his apron behind his waist. He glances around the store eagerly, looking for Keith. Lance doesn’t see him, so he must be running a little late. Each time the bell in the front jingles, his heart skips a beat, thinking that it is Keith.

 

But throughout the entire day, Keith doesn’t show. 

 

Lance gives up looking for him an hour before closing. He is beyond exhausted, and there is definitely no chance of Keith showing now. Lance asked Shiro earlier in the day where Keith was, but even Shiro said he didn’t know. 

 

As soon as Allura gave him the okay to go home, he tugs on his winter coat over his apron and speed walks to his truck. As he walks, he pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts and looking for Keith’s name. 

 

He shuts the freezing door and clicks on his name with shaky fingers, dialing his number. The first time he calls, Keith doesn’t pick up. Weird. Keith almost always has his phone glued into his palm, except when he’s with James.  _ Oh no. _

 

Lance panics slightly, dialing his number again. He doesn’t mean to be clingy, but if Keith is with James, especially this soon after the proposal… it can’t be good. Thankfully, Keith picks up the second time.   
  


“Keith!” Lance exhales a breath he doesn’t even realize he is holding in. “Just wanted to check in.”

 

Keith sniffles, his nose sounding congested. “‘m sick,” his voice is thick and nasally sounding. Lance’s heart softens. 

 

“Yikes.” Lance puts him on speaker and starts driving home. Now that he knows Keith is okay, he can finally focus on getting himself out of the cold. 

 

“Why you callin’?” Keith asks, sniffing again. 

 

“Just checking on you, that’s all,” Lance responds. “You weren’t at work today, I was worried.”

 

“Heh,” Keith chuckles, before entering a coughing fit. “Sorry.”

 

Lance smiles softly. “It’s okay.”

 

“Worried ‘bout me, huh?”

 

“What? Can’t I care for a friend?”

 

“Pfft. Friend.”

 

Lance’s heart jumps. “What?”

 

Keith giggles. “Friend. Friendfriendfriend.”

 

Lance chuckles. “Okay there, bud? How much medicine did you take?”

 

Keith thinks for a moment. “Very many,” he says in a sing-song voice. 

 

“Is anyone with you?”

 

“Me ‘n Scarlet.”

 

“Scarlet?”

 

Keith giggles again. “Kitty.”

 

Lance reaches a fork in the road. If he goes left, he ends up home. But if he goes right, he ends up at Keith’s place. “You haven’t eaten anything all day, have you.”

 

“Food nasty.”

 

Lance turns right. “Okay, buddy. I’m coming over there. Sit tight, ‘kay?”

 

Keith hums. “‘m ‘kay superman.” Keith shrieks like a little kid. “Hear that, kitty? He’s superman!” Then he escalates into another coughing fit. 

 

Lance bites his lip. “See you soon.”

 

“Mhmm,” Keith manages to say before he coughs again. 

 

Lance parks on the street outside Keith’s apartment before he realizes he doesn’t know what apartment is Keith’s. But before he can even text him, Keith sends him one. 

 

**Keith:** apartment’s third floor, 3B

 

Lance clicks off his phone and shoves it in his pocket before taking the elevator up to the third floor. Apartment 3B is just across from the elevator. Lance raps on the door three times, before a raspy voice yells, “It’s open!” from inside. 

 

Lance pushes open the door to the most luxurious apartment he’s ever seen a twenty three year old working at a bookstore in. He gapes into a huge open living room, with plush gray couches and an aged coffee table. The walls are coffee colored. The room feels warm and cozy, a fireplace in front of the couches adding to the ambiance. Collapsed on one of the couches is Keith, only recognizable from his mop of black hair. 

 

“Keith?” Lance calls out, making sure he didn’t walk into someone’s rich aunt’s apartment.

 

“‘m dead,” Keith sniffs from inside a pile of blankets. 

 

Lance smiles, taking off his shoes. He noticed Keith’s pair when he came in, and decided to slide his off as well.

 

He walks over to the blanket pile, massaging his toes into the soft carpet under foot. Keith sticks his head out from his cocoon . His hair is a mess, his nose red and irritated, and even has bags under his eyes. Lance has to try really hard to not trip up his words. 

 

“Hey, buddy,” Lance says softly, moving a piece of hair out of Keith’s face.  “How’re you feeling?”

 

Keith sniffs, grabbing a tissue off the coffee table and wadding them together near the tip of his nose. “Like shit,” he draws out. 

 

“Look like it too,” Lance jokes, taking a seat next to Keith’s head, which was propped up on several pillows. 

 

“Shuddup,” Keith replies. 

 

A quiet  _ meow  _ pulls Lance’s attention from Keith. A tabby cat, a little too big to be a kitten, walks out from around the corner and trots over to the couch. It leaps onto the couch with grace, and walks over Lance to get to Keith. Lance runs his hand over its soft fur as it walks, the cat meowing happily. 

 

“Scarlet, baby kitty darling,” Keith grins, scratching the top of the cat’s head. “Missed you, girly.” 

 

Scarlet meows in agreement, then jumps onto the back to the couch to nap. She stretches out her legs, then promptly plops down and falls asleep. 

 

“Cute cat,” Lance says as he pets Scarlet. 

 

“She says thanks,” Keith responds, burrowing deeper into the blankets. He looked so cute, Lance almost forgot why he is there.  _ Feed Keith, right.  _

 

“You hungry?” Lance asks. 

 

“Food nasty,” he says, in the same tone as he did on the phone. 

 

“You need to eat.”

 

Keith shakes his head into the pillows. 

 

“Well, I’m feeding you,” Lance stands up. “Where’s your kitchen?”

 

Keith groans, taking an arm out of the blankets to wave towards the corner Scarlet came around. “Over there or something.”

 

“Real helpful.”

 

“‘m dying, and ‘m doing my best.”

 

Lance shoots him a look before he walks in the general direction of the kitchen. He rounds the corner to be met with a rather small kitchen. There is a granite countertop lining the walls, with cabinets above and below them. A stainless steel fridge and sink is on one side, with a stove and oven on the other. 

 

Lance opens the fridge and takes inventory of food he can use to cook, which was about nothing. Keith apparently had every single damn condiment known to man, and a fuck ton of yogurt, but nothing that could be used in actual food. Lance also checks the freezer, which besides having an exorbitant amount of ice cream, has nothing of value either. He sighs and shuts the door. 

He resorts to looking through the cabinets, which just had a ton of expired peanut butter and cat food.  _ Seriously, what does this guy even eat?  _ Lance groans in frustration and closes the door, sulking back into the living room. Keith is sitting up, and texting someone on his phone, sniffing every few seconds. 

 

“Keith,” Lance says in a deadpan voice, “why the fresh fuck do you have ten jars of peanut butter in your pantry?”

 

Keith responds without looking up from his phone. “Scarlet likes it.”

 

“Why do you have enough yogurt to feed an entire senior center?”

 

“Cat.”

 

Lance has absolutely given up. “Okay, I’m just gonna order you food then, got it?” He sinks down into the couch next to Keith, as he did before. “How do you even  _ live _ ?”

 

Keith shrugs. “I don’t.”

 

Lance starts dialing the number of the nearest pizza place. “Makes sense,” he mutters, and places an order for a large meat lover’s pizza and garlic knots. 

 

After he places his order, he clicks off his phone and looks at Keith. “How long have you been laying here?” he asks. 

 

Keith considers it for a moment. “Fourteen hours,” he answers proudly. 

 

“Have you done  _ anything  _ today?”

 

“Why would I want to do that?”

 

Lance is fed up with this boy. “Listen, you need to get up and at least get some fresh air. Take a shower or something. At least get off that couch.”

 

Keith groans. “Do I have to?”

 

Lance starts digging him out of the blanket cocoon. “If you want to feel better, then yes.”

 

Keith groans again, and reluctantly pulls himself out of the blanket pile. He stands shakily, rubbing his temple. “‘m up. Now what?”

 

Lance shoves all the blankets aside, but notices something on Keith’s wrist as he rubs his eyes. A second tally. In inky black. His heart pounds before he pulls himself back to the present. “G-go shower.”

 

“No,” Keith moans. “I don’ wanna.”

 

“Do you want to breathe out of your nose again?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then you gotta go shower.”

 

Keith glares at him as he disappears around the corner. Lance starts folding the blankets and sticks his tongue out at him. He waits until he can hear the water in the shower before he freaks out. 

 

Lance squeals, pinching his arm to make sure he isn’t dreaming.  _ He has another mark! At the same time as me! That can’t be a coincidence, right?! _

 

Lance hums as he finishes folding all five blankets (how Keith didn’t bake alive in there he has no clue), and sits down on the couch next to Scarlet, who is still napping. She mews happily as he pets her head. 

 

He thinks about the strange coincidence of the marks. It can’t be just a coincidence right? Keith wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone else that quickly, right? Lance would know who it was then; Keith would have said something about them…right? 

 

The water in the shower switches off, and Keith drags his feet as he collapses next to Lance, his hair still damp. 

 

“There,” Keith groans. “Now leave me to die.”

 

Lance snickers. “Not until you eat something that isn’t peanut butter.”

 

Keith shoots him a look. “I told you, that’s for the cat.”

 

Keith leans over to the coffee table and grabs the remote, turning on the large flat screen TV. A news channel plays, reporting on the heavy snow in the area. Keith flips through each lazily, until he gives up on Animal Planet. Dolphins and seals squeak happily against cutesy  background music. 

 

“I didn’t know you liked this kind of stuff,” Lance muses. “I took you for a  _ Survivor  _ kind of guy.”

 

“‘s not for me,” Keith grumbles into the pillow he’s hugging. 

 

“Aww, you put this on for me?”

 

“Shut it.”

 

Before Lance can make another snarky remark, there is a quick rap on Keith’s front door. Keith starts to stand up to get it, but Lance beats him to it. He grabs the pizza and garlic knots and pays before Keith can even start walking from the couch. 

 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Keith says, coming back from the kitchen with plates. 

 

Lance opens the pizza box, the delicious smell of meat lovers pizza wafting around the room. “You’re sick,” he answers simply. 

 

Keith takes a slice from the box. “How’d you know meat lovers is my favorite?”

 

Lance shrugs. “You mentioned it once while we were taking inventory.”

 

Keith nods slowly, and takes a bite of his pizza. They eat a few slices of pizza in silence, watching various sea animals hunt for prey and nurture their babies. Lance eventually got sick of the silence, and decides to ask Keith about the mark. 

 

“So…,” Lance starts, picking up two more garlic knots. “How’re you? With the whole thing.”

 

“Thing?”

 

“The, uh… thing.”

 

“You’re being very vague.”

“The James thing.”

 

Keith swallows a bite of pizza, his face falling. “Oh. That thing.”

 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it right now,” Lance tries to back track. “It hasn’t been too long.”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Keith insists, repositioning himself so Scarlet can easily squeeze into the space next to him. “I think I’m doin’ a lot better, actually.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Mhmm,” Keith places his empty plate on the coffee table, and wraps his arms around his legs. “‘m not cryin’ anymore so that’s a plus.” He tries to laugh but ends up coughing. 

After his breathing calms down, he looks to the TV, where baby seals roll around in the snow. “I think I finally realized that it wasn’t a good relationship for me to be in. But I think,” Keith wipes his nose with a tissue, “I think I still love him.”

 

Lance nods understandingly. “You still love him,” he echoes. 

 

“I think it’ll take me awhile to get over that but,” Keith turns back to face Lance. “Like I said, ‘m not cryin’ over him anymore.” 

 

Lance doesn’t push him any further. They watch the documentary for half an hour more before Keith nods off. He starts leaning against the back cushion of the couch, but as he drifts off into deep sleep, he falls back into Lance’s lap. Lance is surprised, especially as Keith tucks himself into Lance. But he hides a grin and gently combs Keith’s now dry hair with his fingers. He continues to watch the documentary until it ends and he decides that he should be heading home. 

 

Lance slowly moves Keith’s head from his lap onto a pillow, careful not to disturb his sleep. He tiptoes around the coffee table to grab the plates and pizza box, treading lightly into the kitchen. Lance quickly washes and dries the plates, putting them away into a cupboard. 

 

Then, he slowly creeps back into the living room. Keith is still sound asleep on the couch, along with Scarlet. Lance turns off the TV when he gets an idea. Looking around the room, he notices a small notepad hung by the door. It’s decorated with cartoon cats and paws. Lance smiles as he quickly writes out a note for Keith. 

_ You fell asleep after the pizza. I washed, dried, and put away the dishes for you. Also turned off your TV. Call me if you need anything! Feel better soon, and don’t take any more pills. I think if you take anymore you’ll go into a coma or something.  _

_ -Lance <3 _

_ P.S. Get more food, or I’ll tell Shiro you live like this :) _

 

Lance grins, and is about to leave when he realizes he left his phone on the couch. He walks quietly back and grabs his phone from near Keith’s head. For good measure, he sneaks a peek at Keith. His dark lashes flutter slightly, his nose red. Keith pulled up the blankets towards his face, and is hugging a pillow tightly. Without thinking, Lance leans down and drops a light kiss onto Keith’s temple. 

 

He quickly realizes what he’s done, his blood rushing to his face. Lance jumps away from Keith, trying to increase the distance between them in case Keith wakes up. Instead, Keith squeezes the pillow tighter and shifts a little, his eyes still closed. Lance calms down, his adrenaline levels plummeting. He goes to tug on his shoes and tie the laces. Lance opens the door to the apartment and looks back at Keith, who is still fast asleep on the couch. 

 

“Sleep tight, love,” Lance whispers to no one as he slowly backs out of the apartment and closes the door with a quiet  _ click.  _

 

♥.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♥

 

Keith comes back to work after two weeks of the terrible cold. Lance is ecstatic to have him back, more excited than Shiro. Lance hasn’t seen Keith since he dropped by to take care of him two weeks ago, and has so much to tell him. 

 

Over the past few months, Keith has become the perfect confident for Lance. He found that he can vent to Keith as much as he wants about anything: his family, Hunk, Pidge, and even his marks. Keith listens respectfully, and gives Lance the best advice he can. Lance appreciates every second of it. 

 

Christmas is coming up in a week, and the whole bookstore is decked out with decorations for the holiday. The employees chatter joyously about their holiday plans, and the entire atmosphere is buzzing with the Christmas spirit. Lance and Shiro even drafted a Christmas menu for the cafe as an attempt to get people even further into the holiday mood. 

 

“My parents, sister, brother, and sister-in-law are flying from Cuba!” Lance exclaims to Romelle and Shiro. “They were able to find tickets for a cheap connecting flight from Havana. They’re flying into Florida, then from there coming up here. God, I’m just so excited! I haven’t seen them since I graduated college, and I haven’t even met my niece yet.” 

Lance is practically bubbling over with excitement over his family. He’s missed them so much over the past few years, trying to save up for a trip to Cuba to see the whole family. His mom called him a few days back informing him of the cheap flight. Lance screamed so loud that Pidge woke up. She then disconnected the WiFi in revenge. 

 

“Wow, that’s a lot of people,” Shiro notes, adding the whipped cream on a peppermint mocha. “How’re you gonna fit all of them into your apartment?”

 

“Hunk and Pidge are each going home for the holidays, and said they were cool with my fam using their rooms,” Lance explains as he refills the kettle with water. “It’s still gonna be a little cramped, but at least we’re all together.”

 

“It sounds wonderful, Lance,” Romelle chimes in. “I’d love to have a big family like that.”

 

Lance chuckles. “It gets pretty hectic at times, and  _ so  _ dramatic. But I love ‘em.”

 

They let the soft Christmas music from the store’s speakers wash over them for a moment as a large group of teenagers come into the cafe. 

 

After the last boy sits down with his hot chocolate, Lance breaks the silence again with his peppy voice. “So, what are your plans for Christmas?”

“I’m gonna go chill with Allura. Then Allura and I are going to go to Canada to visit her uncle,” Romelle replies. “What about you, Shiro?”

 

Shiro shrugs. “Probably gonna stay home with Adam. He loves Christmas; he’s gonna knit us stockings and sweaters and other sappy junk. It’s going to be our first Christmas together,” Shiro gushes. 

 

“Aww, that’s so cute,” Romelle coos. “You guys are adorable.”

 

Lance drifts off in thought for a minute, then suddenly gets an idea. He vaults over the counter, much to Romelle and Shiro’s confusion. 

“Taking five!” he yells back at their puzzled expressions as he zig zags through the shelves. Lance takes a sharp turn and reaches the front of the store where Keith is lounging against the empty counter and reading a book. 

 

Lance slides his arm against the counter as he skids to a stop. “Hey Keith!” he pants, taking Keith by surprise. 

 

“Uh, hey?” Keith responds. “You good?”

 

Lance gulps down some air. Damn, he really should get in the gym more. “Yeah, just fine!” he wheezes. 

 

Taking down another gulp of air, he pants, “Hey, you got any Christmas plans?”

 

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Yes,” he replies, much to Lance’s intrigue. 

 

“Really?”

 

“I’m sitting at home with Scarlet and eating pizza.”

 

Lance sighs, and looks at Keith, exasperated. “Those aren’t  _ plans _ , Samurai.”

 

Keith waves it off. “Let me love my cat.”

 

“Listen, do you want to spend Christmas with me?” 

 

Keith looks super confused now. He finally puts his book down on the counter. “Uh… what do you mean?”

 

“My family is coming over to my apartment,” Lance explains. “On the twenty third. Do you want to spend the weekend with us, over Christmas?”

 

“Why’re you inviting me?”

Lance softens his smile. “Thought you wouldn’t want to spend Christmas alone.” 

 

“I have my cat, dumbass. I’m not alone.”

 

Lance rubs his hand on his forehead. “Your  _ cat _ . Say that sentence again, but slowly.”

 

Keith thinks for a moment before settling on a decision. “Well, yeah. Sure. I’d love to.”

 

Lance cheers, giving a still very confused Keith a high five. “Awesome! I’ll see you then.”

 

Lance starts running back when he yells, “By the way, cats are welcome!”

 

Keith smirks and yells back, “I’ll make a note of that.”

 

Shiro gives Lance a look when he reaches the cafe. For one, Lance is gasping for air like he just ran a marathon. Lance is also sporting the fondest expression Shiro has ever seen from someone who works at a bookstore cafe. 

 

“What’s with the running?” Shiro asks. 

 

Lance runs and hugs Shiro tightly. Shiro stands still awkwardly, not sure what to do. “Uh...you good?”

 

Lance sigh and lets go of Shiro, bubbling over the top with glee. “Keith’s spending Christmas with me,” he swoons. 

 

Shiro nods knowingly. “Ah, so you finally told him?”

 

Lance’s expression stiffens. “Told him what?”

 

“That you,” Shiro winks, “ _ like  _ him.”

 

Lance recoils, stammering over his words. “Ha,  _ me _ like  _ him.  _ Wow, you-you are  _ so funny  _ Shiro, y’know that? That’s just-Where’d you get that idea from?”

 

Shiro looks him in the eye. “Since you’ve been refilling the cups for the past two minutes.” 

 

Lance glances at the tall stack of paper cups he had started working on absentmindedly. “Oh.”

 

Shiro chuckles. “Plus, it was pretty obvious before.”

 

Lance pulls his lips into a pout. “No it wasn’t.”

 

Romelle chooses to come back to the cafe with a box of coffee at the perfect time. “What wasn’t?” she says as she sets the box down under the counter.

 

“It’s obvious that Lance has a crush on Keith, right?” Shiro snickers, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counters. 

 

Romelle  _ giggles. _ “Oh, oh yeah.” She stands straight up. “Lance, sweetie, you are really whipped.”

 

Lance’s jaw drops. “What?! Am not!”

 

Shiro and Romelle exchange a look, almost like they were communicating telepathically. “Uh, yes you are!” Romelle teases. “Bitch, you are  _ whipped _ .”

 

Lance glares at her. “Shiro, you don’t agree with her right?”

 

Shiro leans on Romelle’s shoulder. “You’re Reddi-Whipped,” he says seriously. 

 

They laugh together as Lance groans and buries his face in his hands. “I’m not,” he moans, drawing out his words. 

 

“Whatever you say,” Shiro says, moving from Romelle to take an order. 

 

Romelle and Shiro tease Lance relentlessly for the rest of the day, the warmth on his mark not helping.

 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

 

Lance shivers, the cold from his window billowing into his bedroom. The sheets shift as he pulls the comforter up to his face. Just as he finds a comfortable position to lay in, his alarm from his phone blares. 

 

He hums angrily, swatting at his phone on the nightstand. His random jabs to shut it up are in vain, as all he is doing is making it angrier. Finally, he swears and sits up, turning it off for good. 

 

“Last time I set a damn alarm for this early,” he yawns. He stretches out his arms, the cool air around him surrounding him like cold silk. It sticks to his bare arms, wafting around his thin t-shirt. 

 

Lance crawls over to his window, and gets up on his knees. Reaching up, his fingers just barely touch the top of the window sill, and he pushes it shut. Warmth at last. He doesn’t remember opening it in the middle of the night; Pidge or Hunk must’ve opened it before they left last night as a joke. 

 

Lance stares out the window at the flurry of snow, remembering the alarm. Why did he set it? Then he remembers: his parents fly in today! Lance grabs his phone and checks the time. They land in half an hour. 

 

“Shit!” he yells, jumping from his bed to change and brush his teeth. Food can wait. Lance hops out the door while tying his left shoe, Hunk’s minivan keys in his mouth. 

 

He races down the metal stairs, tugging on a coat. In the parking lot, he hunts for Hunk’s silver minivan. Hunk said that he could borrow it to drive his parents from the airport, since his truck can only  _ safely  _ seat two. 

 

Lance spots it at the back of the lot, covered in snow. Careful not to slip on any ice, Lance jogs to the car. He hops into the freezing car and turns on the windshield wipers to push snow off and away. Warm, welcome heat surges into the car, and Lance sighs in content. 

 

Slamming close the door, he backs out of the dingy parking lot and drive cautiously through the snow to the airport. Hunk’s minivan actually has Blutooth, and Lance hooks up his phone and enjoys his peppy pop music on his drive. 

 

Bradley International Airport is as crowded as ever when Lance pulls up. Angry people waiting in ridiculously long lines honk at each other in front of the terminals. Tired security guards try to divvy up the traffic, but they really just make it slower and harder to navigate. Lance drives slowly as he gazes out the window at each person walking or waiting on the sidewalk. Any one of them might be his mom, dad, or sibling. 

 

In the middle of “Sunflower” by Post Malone, his phone blasts his ringtone for his sister Veronica, which happens to be “All Star”. Lance grins and answers the call. 

 

“Hey, dipshit,” she greets. 

 

“Sup, asswipe,” he replies. 

 

“So we’re walking towards terminal two. Do you see us? Mama’s wearing the neon pink zebra sweater.”

 

Lance cranes his neck to read the sign. He’s just in front of terminal two. 

 

“Got it. Looking for a parking space in front of the automatic doors. Head there, and I’m sure I’ll see you or you’ll see me.”

 

Veronica mumbles something to his parents in quick Spanish. “Okay,” she sighs. “See you soon.” Without another word, she hangs up the call. 

 

Lance’s mouth turns up at the corners. They’re so close. 

 

Suddenly, he notices a petite woman wearing a neon pink zebra print sweatshirt, the same one he had bought and sent to Cuba three years ago. 

 

His hands shake as he rolls down the passenger side window to yell, “Mama!” 

 

Immediately, the woman whips her head around. The gentle brown ringlets around her face bounce as she shrieks and runs towards the van, yelling in rapid Spanish. A tall man follows her, trying to grab her wrist and slow her down. He won’t be able to. 

 

“Lance!” she shouts at the van. 

 

Lance parks the car in an open spot, his smile too wide for his face. Like the Flash, he’s out of the car and running to meet his mother. 

 

They collide, and Lance squeezes his mother tight. She’s much shorter than him, Lance towering over her easily. He closes his eyes as she starts crying happy tears. 

 

“You’ve gotten so tall!” she says, finally pulling away from him. Lance laughs, and notices the other members of his family behind her. 

 

“I’m the same height as the last time you saw me, Mama!” He giggles like a child. 

 

She scowls. “And so skinny too! Have you been eating?”

 

Lance nods. “Yes, Mama. Three meals a day, I swear.”

 

She looks skeptical. “I don’t think so. I’m making lunch when we get home.”

 

“Fine by me.”

 

His mama lets go of his hands, and he is free to welcome his other family members. Lance wraps his arms around his dad. 

 

“Hi Papa,” he says with noticeably less energy than how he greeted his mama. His father hugs him back tightly. 

 

“Good to see you, Lance,” he replies sternly. 

 

“Did you have a good flight?”

 

His father nods tersely. “Yes, we did. It was actually quite relaxing.” 

 

Lance’s lips form a tight smile. “Good.”

 

Veronica gently nudges their father aside and wraps her arms around Lance’s neck. “Hey, Lancey-Lance,” she says. 

 

“Hi, Ronnie.”

 

She combs her bangs out of her face with her fingers. In the meantime, Luis and Margo each hug Lance, Margo with a baby in her arms. 

 

“Aww, this must be Nadia,” Lance coos. 

 

“That’s her,” Luis chuckles. “She’s quite the handful.”

 

“Just like her Tio Lance,” Veronica mutters, earning a smack on her head by her mother. “What?” she sighs. “It’s true.”

 

“Nadia is such a sweet baby,” Lance’s mama argues. “Lance was a sweet baby too.”

 

Veronica rolls her eyes, but doesn’t make another snarky comment. 

 

Lance’s father claps his hands together to get the groups attention. “Let’s get out of this airport,” he commands. “Into the van.”

 

The group groans, sad to be torn from spending the next few hours cooing at little Nadia. Nevertheless, they all pile into the van, Lance and Luis hauling the luggage into the trunk. 

 

The drive back to the apartment is  _ loud _ . Nadia does not like the van at all, and is crying the whole way. Lance’s mama is super dramatic every time Lance makes a turn, clutching the small handle above the passenger seat and gasping. It doesn’t help that the roads are covered in snow and are icy.Veronica and Lance’s father have an intense debate about American politics in the backseat, almost as loud as Nadia’s crying. Lance is going to need to get used to this all over again. Or invest in a much larger bottle of advil. 

 

Lance finally pulls into a parking space in front of his apartment complex, sighing in relief as the noise spills out of the car and he can finally hear himself think again. He understands now where he gets his energy from, and why he moved to the US. 

 

He leads them up the metal stairs and into the cold apartment with their luggage, which his mama brought to his attention almost immediately. 

 

“Lance, how do you live like this? Why the cold? I thought you liked the beach?” she rants as she rubs her arms and shivers. 

 

“Sorry, Mama.” Lance turns up the thermostat. Hopefully it’ll heat up soon. 

 

“Can we take the baby to your room to change her?” Margo asks Lance, bobbing Nadia up and down on her hip. Lance nods and shows her the way. As he leaves, he notices his mama opening the door to his fridge and swearing in Spanish. 

 

When he comes back, his mama is making cubanos on his stove using whatever ingredients she can find. He doesn't even remember where half the food came from; all he can do right now is pray that it isn’t expired. 

 

His father is sitting on the couch, reading a book that he had brought with him. Veronica must be in the restroom or something, as she is nowhere in sight. Lance tentatively takes a seat next to his father. 

 

As soon as he sits, his father says, “Have you read  _ The Catcher in the Rye  _ recently, Lance?”

 

Lance shakes his head. “No, Papa. I haven’t had a lot of time to read recently.”

 

“You read it in high school though, didn’t you?”

 

“Yes, Papa. I did.”

 

“Do you remember what it was about?”

 

Lance takes a moment to recall the plot. “It was about a boy named Holden, I think. He was looking for something or someone worthwhile in his life. He left his school in the middle of the night to escape to New York, and the book is about the various things he does there over a few days.”

 

His father nods slowly, lowering the book from his face. “That’s the basis of it, but do you remember what it was  _ about _ ?” 

 

Lance winces, knowing exactly what is to come. “Papa, I don’t understand.”

 

His father closes the book, and clasps his hands across it. “Holden never applied himself in school, did he? He was a failing student. He was very smart, though. He read plenty, and the book even states that he knew the course material. Do you know what it was that held him back?”

 

Lance shakes his head. 

 

“It was the fact that he had no  _ motivation.  _ He had this hunting hat, see, that was a symbol for his search for someone to be his motivation. Holden found part of that motivation in his sister, but he never found the other half in himself. You see what I’m getting at?”

 

Sadly, Lance did.   
  


His father continues, “You, Lance, remind me of Holden. You’re very smart, I know it because I saw you get into college, and I saw you graduate with a fantastic degree in science. But you don’t apply yourself to get a job in science. I know you love your bookstore job, but Lance, I think it’s time for you to branch out and use the degree you paid for.”

 

Lance nods slowly, swallowing thickly. He squeezes his fists. 

 

“I understand, Papa. And I swear, I’m trying. I’m applying myself the best I can.”

 

Just then, Lance’s mama curses loudly in Spanish. She swats her rag at the skillet on the stove, trying to clear the steam that burst from it. 

 

“Food!” she yells after the steam clears. She sets several plates on the kitchen table, saying no more before turning off the stove and collapsing into a chair to eat.

 

Lance’s father sighs, and gets up to eat. Before he walks away, he turns back to Lance. “Lance,  _ mijo _ ,” he says too quiet for anyone else to hear, “please don’t lie to your father.”

 

Lance is left staring at his hands as his father shouts at everyone else to come and eat. 

 

Everyone swarms into the room excitedly, sitting down at the table, or at the couch with their sandwiches. Soon the apartment is filled with loud conversational Spanish and bits of English, everyone eating and chatting happily. Lance sits down with them, quickly turning on his charm and sibling rivalry with Veronica to see who can eat the fastest. His mama stops them halfway through, but it was fun while it lasted. 

 

After lunch, everyone went to take a nap. The flight was long and tiring; everyone just wants to sleep. Everyone but Lance. 

 

He slowly closes his bedroom door, where Veronica and his mama were sleeping. Capping his black Sharpie, he tiptoes back into the kitchen and places it carefully in the pen holder. Veronica was in for a surprise when she wakes up. 

 

There isn’t much else to do until tonight, when Keith is coming for dinner and for break. Lance smiles fondly at the thought. He walks into the kitchen mindlessly, letting his mind wander. Unfortunately, his mind decides to wander to the conversation he had earlier with his father. 

 

Lance has always had a tense relationship with his father. It’s not that he doesn’t love his father- he does- it’s just that sometimes he can be a bit… extreme when it came to Lance’s  _ worth _ . Lance has several siblings, and each one of them is either married with children or engaged. Each has a steady, well paying job, and his father has shown his appreciation for each and every one of them. 

 

Lance has always been the one person in the family that is behind with all that. He got into college, sure, but it wasn’t an Ivy league or a UC. It was a small state school with not the best reputation. He graduated with a degree in science, something his father approved of, but can’t manage to find a job. His father always blames his shortcomings on the fact that he doesn’t work hard enough, that if he worked harder he would have the job of his dreams, a fancy car, a husband or a wife. 

 

The marks on his arm make everything worse. Instead of his father giving him sympathy for them, he constantly tells Lance off for getting them. That if he can’t manage the pain, then just don’t fall in love in the first place. Lance silently thought that was ridiculous, no one could just  _ stop  _ falling in love with someone. It was also not the most creditable thing coming from his dad and his single-tally arm. 

 

Lance doesn’t even realize his eyes are damp until his vision blurs. He hastily wipes his eyes with his sleeve, begging himself not to cry. It was just business as usual, this was no big deal. He’s known that he’s not worth shit for years, and there’s nothing he can do about it now. He just needs to keep moving. 

 

Lance digs through the couch to find his phone, lodged between two couch cushions. The lock screen lights up, displaying a text from Keith. Lance smiles fondly at the familiar name. 

 

**Samurai:** hey, what time should i come over?

 

Keith sent the message less than twenty minutes ago. Lance is glad he grabbed his phone when he did. 

 

**Lance:** Around 6 works perfect!

 

To Lance’s surprise, Keith texts back almost immediately. 

 

**Samurai:** is it ok if i’m a little early? like… 3 hours early

 

**Lance:** ?

 

**Samurai:** shiro can only drive me over now. james still has my bike :/

 

**Lance:** Yeah ofc! Come up to my apartment, but text me when you’re outside. I don’t want to wake the parents

 

**Samurai:** sdjh i’m sorry!! i can catch an Uber later if it’s trouble

 

**Lance:** Samurai, I swear. It isn’t any trouble at all. 

 

Then Lance remembers the grocery list his mother was putting together when they ate. Even though she was dead tired, she still wanted to make the best dinner ever. It is on the kitchen table, and Lancc gets an idea.

 

**Lance:** Actually, would you mind running an errand with me?

 

**Samurai:** what kind of errand?

 

**Lance:** Grocery shopping. Mama’s got a list of things she needs for dinner, plus the apartment has no food lol. You ok with that?

 

Keith is hesitant to respond. Lance holds his breath. 

 

**Samurai:** yeah sounds cool! i’ll be over in half an hour. 

 

**Lance:** awesome. see you soon!

 

Lance now has half an hour to make himself look presentable. He’d grabbed his clothes blindly, and if he went out in public people would think he was a homeless man. He walks with quiet steps into his room to grab a new pair of light wash jeans, and his Thrasher sweatshirt. Lance quickly changes clothes, brushes his teeth, and combs his hair. Much better.

 

Lance pulls on a pair of thick socks as Keith texts him. 

 

**Samurai:** here

 

He jumps up and answers the door. Keith is bundled up in a heavy coat and beanie, his cheeks and tip of his nose flushed pink. A small duffle bag is held tightly in his hand. 

 

“Hey,” Keith greets softly. 

 

“Hey.”

 

“You’re parents came in today?” Keith keeps his voice at a low volume. 

 

Lance nods. “Mhmm. Everyone’s dead tired from the flight. 

 

Keith licks his lips. “Sorry for inconveniencing you.”

 

Lance waves his hand. “Pssh, don’t worry about it. I needed to go out anyway. This’ll be much more fun with company.”

 

He glances back at the kitchen counter where his phone and keys are. “Let me get my shoes on and stuff and we’ll get going.”

 

Keith nods. “Okay.”

 

Lance opens the door wider. “You can come in if you want. To get out of the cold.” 

 

Keith shuffles into the apartment, and Lance closes the door behind him. While Lance ties on his boots, Keith glances around the apartment. It’s not like he hasn’t been here before, but everything seems so weird now. Especially after that night. 

 

“You ready?” 

 

Lance’s voice brings him back. Lance has also thrown on a light Patagonia jacket, a gift from his sister last Christmas. 

 

Keith opens the door after dropping his bag near the kitchen counter. “After you,” he grins. 

 

“What a gentleman!” Lance teases, Keith following him out the door. Keith closes the door just as Lance realizes he forgot to do something.

 

“Hold on!” Lance exclaims, pulling out his phone and typing rapidly. A  _ whoosh _ sound effect sounds from his phone after a few moments, and he tucks it back into his pocket, content. 

 

“I just had to text the family group chat about where I went,” Lance explains to Keith’s confused expression. “Don’t want them to think I got kidnapped or something.”

 

The pair tread down the now icy metal steps carefully and walk into the parking lot. The worn red of Lance’s truck isn’t hard to spot. 

 

Just as it had been with the van that morning, the truck had a thick layer of snow on its windshield. Lance pushes as much of it off as possible, with Keith’s help, before hopping inside and turning on the windshield wipers to brush the rest away. 

 

Lance starts the car, and he starts driving to the nearest Safeway. Keith shivers periodically in the seat next to him, and he feels guilty. After the fifth time he shivers, Lance stops at a light and apologizes, saying, “I’m really sorry there’s no heat in here. You must be frozen.”

 

Keith gives him a shaky smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “The cold’s the best part about living in Connecticut.” 

 

The light turns green. “Indeed it is,” Lance agrees sarcastically, and crosses the next intersection into the Safeway parking lot. 

 

Entering the store is pure bliss. The warmth from the heater washes over them like a hot bath. Both boys audibly sigh. 

 

Lance grabs a basket from beside the automatic doors, and they take off. He whips out the grocery list from his pocket, written in his mama’s neat handwriting. 

 

“Okay, so,” Lance says, not looking up from the grocery list as they walk. “We need macaroni, bacon, mushrooms, parmesan cheese, cheddar cheese, goat cheese-why are there like, 50 different cheeses on this list.” He squints comically at the paper, and Keith stifles a giggle. 

 

Lance sneaks a glance at Keith, who is watching him rattle off the list intently. His chest gets a tad warmer. He looks back at the notebook paper. “Uh… also! We need lettuce, croutons, olive oil, eggs, milk, and half-and-half. Whew! That’s a long list, Mama.”

 

Keith looks over his shoulder at the list. “It’s like you only live on leftovers! What a shock,” Keith says sarcastically. 

 

“Hey!” Lance retorts playfully. “I live a very fine and exquisite life, thank you very much Mr. Peanut butter!” 

 

Keith laughs heartily, his beanie slipping down the front of his face. Instinctively, Lance reaches out to fix it, holding the list between his teeth. His fingers brush Keith’s forehead softly as he tries to contain his own light laughter and fix the beanie. Keith immediately sucks in a breath as Lance replaces the gray beanie on Keith’s head with gentle motions. Lance’s focused eyes make sure it sits on his head just right before letting go. For good measure, Lance tucks a stray strand of black hair behind Keith’s ear. Lance doesn’t notice Keith becoming redder than before. 

 

“All fixed,” Lance proclaims, taking the list back into his hands. “Though you might not want to touch this now,” he jokes, pointing at the list. 

 

Keith hums in reply. Lance looks from him back at the list. “Okay, so first thing is macaroni,” he reiterates. He scans the signs above the aisles before finding the sign labelled ‘Pasta’. Lance points in the direction of the aisle, and he and Keith take off. 

 

They get to the pasta aisle, and Lance is immediately fascinated by the tons of different pastas. 

 

“Whoa, who knew that there could be this many carbs in one aisle?” Keith jokes, searching for the macaroni. When Lance doesn’t reply, he turns around. “Lance?” 

 

Lance is staring intently at the colored rotini pasta. Keith rolls his eyes. “Lance?” Keith repeats. 

 

“These look so cool,” Lance murmurs. 

 

“I’m sorry, how old did you say you were again? Three?” Keith chuckles, grabbing his forearm and pulling him to the other side of the aisle. 

 

Lance follows, and Keith gestures to the several different types of macaroni the store offered. “Which one do you need?” Keith asks, holding up a box of whole grain pasta in one hand, and a box of a much more unhealthy pasta in the other. 

 

Lance opens his mouth to respond, but Keith interrupts him. “Wait, let me guess.” Keith holds the processed pasta above the whole grain one. “This one, right?”

 

“Nope!” Lance replies smugly, popping the “p”. He reaches over a puzzled Keith’s shoulder and picks up a new box of the whole grain pasta. “Need the whole grain shit if I want to keep this six pack.”

 

“Yeah, right. Like you have a six pack.” Keith crosses his arms, the pasta back on the shelf, and raising an eyebrow. He isn’t buying any of it. 

 

Lance places his free hand on his chest, pretending to be offended. “Excuse you, mister! I played hockey through high school  _ and  _ college. You bet your ass I have a six pack from all that pain.”

 

Keith uncrosses his arms slightly. “You play hockey?!”

 

Lance chuckles. “ _ Played. _ For my school team.”

 

“Huh,” Keith shrugs. 

 

“What?”

 

“Just didn’t take you for a sports person,” Keith responds, walking past Lance towards the back of the store. 

 

Lance says nothing and follows, but notes how Keith mutters, “Hockey?!” under his breath when he thinks Lance isn’t paying attention. 

 

The rest of the ingredients are fairly easy to find and go without much incident. Of course, Lance does try and trip Keith in the dairy aisle, but he claims it was just Keith being clumsy. Keith has other words about it, though. 

 

They make it to the cash register, where a familiar girl is working the checkout. Lance instantly pales as they get into the short line. 

 

“We need to find a new line, now,” he whispers to Keith, already starting to back out of his spot. 

 

“What d’ya mean?” Keith whispers back. 

 

“Cashier. She’s-”

 

“Hey Lance!” the cashier calls, waving at Lance. Lance leans away from Keith and displays a forced smile. 

 

“Hey, Jenny,” Lance replies, trying his best to keep his voice cheery. She buys it. 

 

“How’re you?” she asks, bagging a customer’s groceries. Her blinding white teeth reflect the fluorescent lighting harshly. 

 

“Good. You?” he responds politely. 

 

“I’m well.” She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Lance notices that she got an eyebrow piercing since the last time he saw her. “What are you doing for the holidays?”

 

Lance starts piling the groceries onto the black conveyor belt, replying without looking at her. “Oh, you know… family’s coming and stuff,” he says, keeping his answer vague. 

 

“That’s nice.” Her blue eyes smile with her lips. 

 

“What about you?”

 

“Jamie is coming back from Europe for the holidays. We’re spending the next few weeks together.” Lance remembers how sweet his lips tasted on hers. 

 

“Cool,” Lance says, bobbing his head slightly. 

 

Jenny just notices Keith. “And who’s this?”

 

“Keith,” Keith responds automatically. “I’m Lance’s friend.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” she says sweetly. “Is he still as much of a jokester as he was in college?” 

 

Keith smiles gently. “Well, he’s pretty hilarious now,” he replies lamely. “What was he like in college?”

 

“Pretty crazy, if you ask me,” she sighs, beginning to scan their items. “He pulled quite a few pranks on our professors. Girls were swooning over him, I tell you. Including me.” Her shoulders move slightly as she laughs silently, reminiscing. 

 

“I guess I did,” Lance laughs along with her. “Why’d you ever say yes to me?”

 

The hair she tucked back earlier falls back in her face. Jenny ignores it. “Because you were sweet. And pretty damn charming.” 

 

Lance puts his elbows on the counter and uses his hands to support his head. “Still am, aren’t I?” He wiggles his eyebrows. 

 

Jenny giggles. She still sounds like ocean waves lapping at sand, like cotton candy clouds and sunny days. “Maybe a little.”

 

She rings up their purchases and gives them the total. Lance puts his credit card into the reader. 

After the card goes through, she hands Lance and Keith their bags. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” Lance notices the big diamond on her left ring finger. And the first tally on her wrist out of only two, still black.

 

Lance nods, waving as he and Keith leave the store. “Yeah, for sure.” 

 

Lance drops the basket by the door as they leave. As soon as the sliding doors close behind them, Lance paints a fake smile on his face. 

 

“So, you ready to meet the fam?” He grins, pretending that the last five minutes were just a hallucination. 

 

Keith grins back, still confused by the encounter, but knowing that now wasn’t the time to bring it up. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

 

Keith pretends not to notice Lance looking back into the store windows as they drive away, his eyes sorrowful and full of regret. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DSFHKSJDH I FORGOT TO UPDATE ON THURSDAY AGAIN IM SORRY 
> 
> sorry for the angst but remember: it just gets worse from here ;)
> 
> tumblr: geckointhegarbage.tumblr.com  
> art tumblr: 88-20.tumblr.com  
> instagram: @88._.20


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith meets lance's family. lance loses himself.

By the time they make it back home, Lance’s entire family is awake. Lance can practically hear them from the parking lot. His mother is beginning to prep dinner: placing butter out to soften, finding and rearranging all of the pots and pans, and keeping the rest of the family out of the tiny kitchen. 

 

When Lance opens the front door, all hell has broken loose. Nadia is screaming in Luis’ arms, Lance’s father and Veronica are in a heavy debate, Lance’s mama is swearing  _ very  _ loudly, and Margo is nowhere in sight. If the room were to spontaneously burst into flames, Lance wouldn’t be surprised. 

 

No one notices that he and Keith are home. Keith looks around in awe. Lance wants to cower back outside, and see if they came back in an hour if everything would be okay. Too late for that, though. 

 

Keith follows Lance as he steps into the apartment and slides off his snow covered boots. Keith does the same. Lance walks nervously into the flurry of his family, each of them not noticing his presence. He goes up to his mama first; she’d probably be able to pull everyone back to order. 

 

He taps gently on her shoulder, and she turns around with a grin. “Lance,  _ mijo _ !” she exclaims, hugging him with her wrists to avoid getting flour on his hoodie. Over Lance’s shoulder she notices Keith. 

 

“And this must be Keith.” She places a gentle kiss on the top of Keith’s head. 

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. McClain,” Keith greets politely. 

 

“Oh, don’t worry about formalities, dear. Just call me Angela.”

 

The corners of Keith’s mouth shift upward. “Okay. Thank you, Angela.”

 

Angela wipes her hands on her apron. “Lance, why don’t you go introduce Keith to Luis, Veronica, Papa, and Margo?” 

 

Lance nods, and starts to follow Keith as they file out of the kitchen, but Angela grabs his arm. 

 

“He’s a good kid,” she whispers quickly. She lets Lance go back with Keith, who was nervously taking in several deep breaths. 

 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lance comforts. “They’re all just louder versions of me.”

 

Keith smiles gently, some of the tension relieved from his shoulders. Lance walks over to Veronica and his papa, who are seated on the couch. 

 

“Okay, but if that was truly the point of the reforms, don’t you think-,” Veronica stops speaking before she can complete her thought. “Hey, Lance!”

 

“Hey, Ronnie. Papa.” Lance’s papa nods respectfully. 

 

Lance gently places his hand on the small of Keith’s back, softly pulling him closer. “This is Keith, the friend I told you about.” 

 

Lance’s papa’s eyes light up in recognition. “Ah! This is the one who works at the bookstore with you?”

Lance nods. “This is him.”

 

Keith reaches out and shakes the older man’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McClain.”

 

“Please, call me Marcos.” 

 

“Sure thing, Marcos,” Keith replies smoothly. He seems to be a lot more collected now than he was a few moments ago. 

 

“Hi, Keith,” Veronica waves slightly at Keith. He waves sheepishly back. 

 

“So, Keith,” Marcos begins. “How old are you?”

 

Lance forgot to warn Keith about the McClain Interrogation ™. He winces noticeably and prays to whatever deity was listening that this was going to be brief. 

 

“Twenty-three,” Keith responds, his hands now stuffed as deep as they can go in his jean pockets. 

 

“The same age as Lance, huh?” Marcos folds his hands in his lap. Lance quickly looks around the room, wondering how he can cause a diversion. 

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Are you from around here?” 

 

Keith nods. “I grew up around Connecticut. Actually, I was born in Texas. My dad moved me up here when I was six. After he, uh, passed away, I went into the foster system and moved around all over here.” Keith says the sentence so well, Lance could tell he’d said it multiple times. 

 

Marcos’ face readiates sympathy and pity. “Oh, I’m so sorry about your father. What about your mother?”

 

Lance interrupts the conversation. “Papa, maybe Keith doesn’t want to-”

 

Keith takes a hand out of his pocket and puts it on Lance’s shoulder. “Really, it’s okay,” he assures him.

 

Lance backs down, but he still doesn’t like where this is headed. 

 

Keith places his hand back in his pocket. “She left my dad when I was two.” 

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

Keith flashes a plastic grin. “It’s really nothing. I grew up just fine, didn’t I?” he jokes lightly. 

 

Marcos chuckles. Lance catches Veronica’s eye, and he can tell she is just as uncomfortable as he is. But both of them glue their lips together. 

 

Marcos smiles back at Keith. “Are you in college right now?” he asks innocently. 

 

At that, Lance can tell his papa hit a sore spot with Keith. Keith’s grin falters and his muscles tense up again. 

 

“I, well,” Keith begins awkwardly. “I never went to college.”

 

“Oh.” Marcos’ grin leaves his face just as fast as Keith’s did. “Well, I’m sure if you studied a little harder in high school, you would have been a fantastic student.”

 

Lance is taken aback by his papa’s comment. He immediately looks for Veronica’s gaze, and by how wide her eyes are he can tell she’s just as scanalized as he is. Lance glances at Keith, who is still tense. But he’s keeping his cool. 

 

Keith rubs the back of his neck. “Actually, I got accepted into Yale. And Harvard. And Stanford.” 

 

Now it was Marcos’ turn to be taken by surprise. “ _ Really _ ?” he breathes. “That’s incredible! Why didn’t you attend?”

 

Keith licks his lips. “I didn’t have the funds to pay the tuition. Even with financial aid,” he says softly. “And I wouldn’t be able to pay off the student loans, so…” 

 

Lance listens to Keith intensely. He did not know any of this about him, and is amazed by the feat Keith managed to accomplish. Lance wants to reach out and take his hand, but stops himself. 

 

Marcos’ face morphs back into one of sympathy. “I am very sorry.” 

 

Keith shrugs. “It’s really no big deal. It’s in the past, anyways.” 

 

Suddenly, Luis popes over Lance’s shoulder, disrupting Marcos’ latest thought. 

 

“So sorry to interrupt,” he practically yells over Nadia’s cries, “but Nadia won’t stop screaming. Lance can you-?” 

 

Lance nods, and Luis sighs in relief. He carefully hands Nadia over to Lance, and Lance cradles her in his arms. 

 

“Thanks so much,” Luis says. “Hand her back to me in, like, fifteen minutes? Or whenever, really. I just need a break.”

 

Lance chuckles, caressing Nadia’s chubby cheeks with his finger. She immediately stops her flow of tears. “Yeah, ‘course.”

 

Luis sighs again, and runs off to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. Lance glances at his father, and motions his head towards the hallway. His father nods in understanding.

 

Marcos clears his throat. “Well, it was nice speaking to you, son,” he says to Keith, before promptly turning around to continue talking to Veronica. 

 

“And you as well, sir,” Keith says quickly, before following Lance as he gets up and heads to his bedroom. Keith rubs his palms on his jeans, hoping Marcos doesn’t notice.

 

Lance gently bobs Nadia up and down on his hip as he pushes the bedroom door open with his elbow. Keith follows him inside, not knowing where else to go. Keith flicks on the light as Lance sits down on his clean bed. In fact, the entire room looks to be recently clean and organized. 

 

Lance repositions Nadia so she is being cradled again. He motions to the space next to him on the bed, silently asking Keith to sit next to him. Keith obeys and takes a cautious seat, not wanting to disturb the baby. 

 

Lance whispers inaudible words to Nadia as she coos and messes with the chain around Lance’s neck. He continues to smile and bob her up and down, before glancing at Keith. 

 

Keith smiles nervously back, not sure how to react with the baby. He watches Nadia tangle the gold chain in her pudgy baby fingers. She opens her mouth to chew on the cross on the end of the chain, but Keith instinctively reaches out and pulls it away from her. She cries for a moment in protest, but settles down as soon as she sees Keith’s face. Nadia coos at Keith, losing interest in the chain and reaching up for him instead with unsteady motions. 

 

Lance smiles softly, gently tickling Nadia’s stomach with his index finger. “She likes you,” he whispers to Keith, not looking up from Nadia’s face. He morphs his face in fake expressions of surprise and delight in attempts to calm Nadia down further. Nadia giggles, turning her attention back to Lance.

 

Keith brushes her dark brown curls back from her face, exposing her forehead. “That’s a first,” he says softly. Keith giggles slightly as Nadia wraps her hands around his finger. “She’s a cutie.”

 

Lance kisses the top of her head. “She is, isn’t she?” He runs his thumb over one of her knuckles. “I want to have a kid like her one day.” 

 

Keith sharply intakes a breath, but recovers before Lance notices. He hesitates before he thinks aloud. “Yeah. Me too.” 

 

Keith suddenly registers what he said, and the tone he said it in. He flushes slightly pink and ducks his head down so Lance can’t see his face. Lance doesn’t say anything for a few moments, speechless. He pushes back his crazy thoughts of over analyzation, which mainly consisted of swear words. It is like his brain is short circuiting. 

 

Lance huffs out a breath of air, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “I just wish they weren’t so much work, y’know?” 

Keith clears his throat lightly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, me too.”

 

Lance rocks Nadia as her eyes continue to droop. She reaches out a tiny hand and holds Lance’s finger in a death grip. Nadia tucks herself into Lance’s arm, and he starts to softly sing. 

_ Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi sol,  _

_ arrorró pedazo de mi corazón. _

_ Este niño lindo se quiere dormir _

_ y el pícaro sueño no quiere venir. _

 

Lance smiles tenderly as he sings, almost under his breath. Nadia seems to enjoy the song, her eyes closing. Lance continues to sing, slightly louder this time. 

 

_ Este niño lindo se quiere dormir _

_ cierra los ojitos y los vuelve a abrir. _

_ Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi sol, _

_ arrorró pedazo de mi corazón. _

 

Keith watches as Lance sings. His expression is calm, stress free. Lance looks tranquil, almost angelic. Keith lets the song wash over him as he closes his eyes, and Lance finishes the short lullaby. 

 

_ Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi sol, _

_ Duérmete mi niño, duérmete mi amor. _

 

Lance finishes the song. Nadia is fast asleep in his arms. Keith opens his eyes, and watches Lance rock Nadia gently for a few moments before Lance stands up and carefully puts Nadia in the travel crib in the back of his room. Luckily, she doesn’t stir. 

 

Lance beckons for Keith to follow him out of the room. He turns off the lights and closes the door, leaving it open just a crack. 

 

The pair walk down the short corridor back to the rest of Lance’s family. Veronica brought out her cheap speaker and is blasting  _ Despacito  _ as her mother chases her around the kitchen with a wooden spoon. Marcos is telling off Luis for laughing, Margo snickering on the couch. The entire apartment is filled to the brim with laughter. 

 

Keith loves it. 

 

  * ·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•



Lance jolts awake in a cold sweat. The comforter slides off of his shoulders and the cold air from the apartment easily penetrates his thin t-shirt. He pants heavily, rubbing his eyes and wiping the sweat from his forehead. The cold air cuts through his lungs like shards of glass.

 

Lance glances around the room. Nadia’s crib is still in the back of the room. He looks down at the floor and sees Keith, fast asleep. He’s clutching his blankets in his hand, covering himself in them up to his neck. The bun he’d originally had his hair in fell apart in his sleep, now a messy ponytail. Lance sighs, and gets out of bed. 

 

Silently, he pulls on the sweatshirt he lay at the foot of his bed. Lance slides on the flip flops over his socks from his open closet door, and tip toes out of the room, being careful with the creaky bedroom door. 

He slips out into the dark kitchen, using his phone flashlight to navigate to the fridge. The jars and bottles in the shelves lining the fridge door clink as he opens it. Lance squints as his eyes adjust to the light, and scans the bottom shelves of the fridge for a familiar brown bottle. 

 

Lance grabs the last one from the shelf and closes the fridge. He uses his phone flashlight to navigate to the back of the apartment. There is a large, rectangular window there with a yellowing white frame. Lance jimmies open the window from the top, and ducks under the window pane and onto the fire escape. The metal shudders at the sudden weight, but Lance doesn’t flinch. He sits down at the edge of the thin metal structure and dangles his legs over the edge. Using a warped piece of metal railing, he pops open the beer bottle and takes a long sip. 

The frigid cold from outside bites at his nose, ears, and fingertips. It seeps in from the freezing metal through his sweatpants. For Lance, the cold is the least of his worries. He stares out into the dark night, the only lights coming from an apartment a few buildings down and the headlights of cars. Lance closes his eyes and reflects on his nightmare. 

 

He was alone in a classroom. It was the old history classroom from high school, peeling wallpaper and everything. There was a paper in front of him with a bunch of text but he couldn’t make out the words, and a pen sitting next to it. Lance leaned over the desk to get a better look at the paper when the classroom door burst open. Nyma, his first girlfriend, tumbled through the door. 

 

Her hair was a mess and her lipstick was smeared. The short sparkly dress she was wearing was on her haphazardly, as if she was getting dressed in the dark. She almost tripped through the doorframe when an arm from outside caught her.  

 

“Careful, darling,” a distinctly male voice slurred. Right behind Nyma, Rolo entered the room. 

 

Lance tensed. Rolo was the reason he and Nyma broke up. He can’t be here. 

 

“Oh, hey buddy. Sorry ‘bout me ‘n my girl.” Rolo’s words melded together, and he pulled Nyma closer to him by the waist. Rolo smirked and looked Lance up and down. “Say, you wanna join us?” 

 

The entire time, Nyma was shocked. Her mouth was hanging open, her eyes widened. Lance had the same expression on his face. The night this happened, Lance was going to tell Nyma that he loved her. She invited him to a friends party, and they had their first drinks together. A few hours in, she told him that she was going to the bathroom. When Lance went to look for her, he found them in Rolo’s bedroom. His heart shattered, and he left the party immediately only to go home and sob into his pillow. 

 

The Nyma and Rolo now are still groping each other when Joshua sauntered into the room. His hair was still that gorgeous dusty blond that it was when Joshua first kissed him. Joshua’s freckles still stood out from the rest of his skin, so much that Lance could trace them into constellations from across the room. God, he was beautiful. Too bad he broke up with Lance the moment Lance told him that he loved him. Joshua takes a seat at one of the desks at the front of the room, and he swivels around to face Lance with a dazzling smirk on his face. God, he was  _ so beautiful _ . 

 

Lance’s heart thumped in his chest. He wasn’t even aware that dream hearts could beat like this. 

 

When Jenny Shaybon’s laugh filled the room, all the air was sucked out of the room. She didn’t walk into the room like the others did, but the smell of her strawberry shampoo and her vanilla perfume wafted into the room. He could feel her lips on his cheek as if she was right next to him, whispering a secret into his ear. Lance whipped around, only to be met with humid Cuban air. 

 

Lance felt his eyes starting to water when he heard the soft  _ click  _ of heels. Allura walked nervously into the room. She was wearing a light blue crop top and black leggings, along with high heeled black boots. Wide rim glasses were perched on her face, and her hair was tied hastily on her head in a messy bun. She was stunning. 

 

Allura, like Joshua, took a seat in the room. She passed Nyma and Rolo, who were now making out on the teacher’s desk. She passed Joshua at the front of the room and walked down the row Lance was seated in. Without looking at Lance, Allura took a seat behind Lance. When Lance turned around to look at her, she smiled brightly and waved. Lance waved back sheepishly, gazing into her eyes. Lance doesn’t even notice when one last person walks into the room. 

 

Keith’s shiny black hair was in a ponytail.  He was wearing the sweatshirt and sweatpants Lance lent to him Thanksgiving night, his eyes as wet and puffy as they were then. He shuffled through the room and took a seat next to Lance. Lance gazed at Keith longingly, and wished to grab him and pull Keith close to his chest to protect him from whatever was hurting him. 

 

“You,” Keith had said suddenly, and had turned to Lance with a look of accusation. “ _ You _ are hurting me.”

 

“N-No,” Lance replied, shaken from Keith’s response at his thought. “No, I’m not hurting you Keith.”

 

“But you are.” Nyma had finally let go of Rolo, and was looking into Lance’s eyes with the same look Keith gave him. “You hurt all of us.”

 

“No,” Lance insisted. “No, I didn’t hurt you. I loved you.”

 

Allura laughed haughtily behind him, a sound that seemed bizarre coming from her mouth. “Oh, you did. You ruined our lives. You wouldn’t have made a good boyfriend, you can barely manage yourself in your life now, with a minimum wage job. You are a  _ failure. _ ” She spat the words out of her lips like venom. 

 

A tear escaped from Lance’s eye. “No! I’m not a failure. I-”

 

“You’re scared of everything.” Joshua narrowed his eyes at Lance. “You are forgetful and stupid. You can’t treat anyone right.” 

 

Lance sobbed. “Please stop,” he begged. “Please.”

 

“Lance?” Keith’s voice was barely above a whisper level. Lance watched him as he got up and leaned over Lance’s desk to whisper in his ear. “I would’ve been married if you didn’t fuck it up.”

 

Suddenly, the entire room filled with water. Nyma, Rolo, Joshua, Keith, and Allura could swim, but Lance was being held down by heavy weights. A gag in his mouth kept him from breathing, and wouldn’t untie itself no matter how hard he scratched with his hands. He screamed, giving up, and water rushed into his lungs. 

 

Lance had woken up when his vision began to fade. Now, on the freezing fire escape, he opens his eyes. Lance doesn’t even notice that his eyes are damp until a single tear slips down his cheek. But he notices as more follow. 

 

Lance doesn’t know if it was the glass after glass of wine he drank at dinner or if he is at an emotional breaking point: tears keep streaming down his face. At first, he does his best to wipe them away, but eventually he gave up. He chokes down sip after sip of the bitter alcohol in a sad attempt to stifle the tears. 

 

He didn’t think that his silent tears would wake someone until that “someone” was standing right behind him, at the window. Several raps on the freezing window pane startle Lance, and he almost drops the bottle in his hand. He whips his head around, praying his mama, or even worse, his father, had woken up and is getting ready to yell at him for drinking. 

 

No, out of all the people in the apartment that night, Lance most definitely didn’t expect Keith to be standing behind the glass. His eyes are blinking tiredly, still heavy with sleep. Keith is biting his lip slightly. Is he worried? 

 

Keith nods his head toward the half open window pane, asking for permission to join Lance on the rickety fire escape. Lance nods solemnly and turns back to his drink. 

 

Lance hears the window open fully and close with a soft creak, and feels the fire escape teeter slightly as Keith takes a seat next to him. Lance doesn’t try to look at him; he’s embarrassed already that Keith found him out here, at one of his most vulnerable moments.

 

“You’re up,” Keith croaks lamely. His voice is still scratchy with sleep.

 

Lance scoffs, rolling the remaining quarter of the beer bottle in his hand. “Yeah. Good observation.”

 

Keith searches for Lance’s eyes, pulling his t-shirt tighter into himself. “Why are you out here?”

 

Lance sighs, chugging down a few drops of beer. “I just...I needed time for me. I couldn’t sleep.” 

 

Keith nods slowly. He licks his lips before asking, “Are you okay?”

 

Lance snickers, his voice laced with venom. “That’s a dumb question, Kogane.”

 

Keith’s stare hardened. “I’m serious. Are you okay?”

 

Lance suddenly slams the bottle on the fire escapes. Keith flinches away, panting even though he barely moved. He raises his arm on instinct to protect his face. 

 

Lance notices immediately how dramatic Keith’s response is. He instantly feels regret and guilt wash over him. His eyes travel to Keith, finally. 

 

“Shit, Keith,” he says, his voice lowered. “I’m so sorry.” Lance reaches out a shaky hand and hesitantly places it on Keith’s shoulder. Keith’s eyes are still squeezed shut. Lance rubs Keith’s shoulder with his thumb, tracing soothing circles to try and calm Keith down. 

 

Keith opens his eyes after a few moments, carefully lowering his arm, as if he is afraid that the threat is still here. Keith tucks his body into a ball, from the cold or fear, Lance can’t tell. 

 

“‘S okay,” Keith mumbles as Lance moves his hand away. “Sorry.”

 

“What’re you apologizing for.” 

 

Keith meets Lance’s eyes, then glances down at back at him several times. “That.”

 

Lance’s expression softens. “God, Keith. You  _ never  _ have to apologize.” 

 

Keith looks back to the street below them, silent. Lance moves the beer bottle to the right side of his body, and opens his arms. 

 

“Come here,” he instructs. 

 

Keith looks at him quizzically, not sure whether to trust him or not. However, slowly but surely, Keith scoots himself closer to Lance. The fire escape shudders when he lands next to Lance, their legs touching. 

 

Lance instinctively wraps his arms around Keith, hugging him tightly. Keith leans into him, but doesn’t recuperate the hug. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Lance apologizes again. He carefully places his chin on Keith’s soft black hair. 

“It’s okay,” Keith replies tenderly. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

 

Lance sighs into Keith’s messy hair. “Keith...I’m okay. I’m just a bit much, okay? Also too little. I’m-I’m too much and too little at the same time,” he tries to explain. “I can’t meet my dad’s quota of a perfect son, or my own. I’m not good at anything, I can’t manage to keep a girl or boyfriend. I’m too little.” 

 

Lance’s voice is small, so small that Keith thinks he is going to disappear. 

 

“I’m too dramatic,” Lance continues, staring at a yellow streetlight a few buildings away. “I embarrass people. I’m always too loud. I’m too friendly. I don’t have anything to offer. I can’t-” Lance breath hitches. “I can’t make people happy.”

 

The sob Lance tries to stifle slips out and rakes through his body.  _ Please, not in front of Keith. _

 

Before the first tear even falls, Keith catches Lance by surprise. Keith switches their position faster than the speed of light, so now Lance is the one in his arms. Keith pulls Lance’s head onto his shoulder, running his fingers through the wavy locks at the nape of his neck. His other hand runs up and down Lance’s spine. 

 

Lance sobs loudly, grasping at Keith’s thin t-shirt. His tears soak through the thin fabric, but Keith holds steady. He whispers words into Lance’s temple:  _ Everything’ll be okay, you’re enough, you’re doing just fine, you’ll be just fine, you’re perfect just the way you are.  _

 

Lance gasps, the cold air burning his lungs. He takes his head off of Keith’s shoulder and meets his eyes.  _ God,  _ if all the stars rained down onto Earth tonight, it wouldn’t even compare to the look Keith is giving him. His eyebrows are turned upward, his eyes sparkling even though the moonlight is sparse. His cheeks are pink from the cold, his lips puckers slightly from the words forming in his mouth. Lance’s head is spinning. 

 

Keith reaches out and wipes away a tear on Lance’s cheek, and Lance absolutely  _ melts. _ Lance wants to lean into Keith’s touch, so he does. He reaches out and presses Keith’s hand to his cheek, ignoring how icy cold it is. Lance completely forgets about how broken he was just minutes earlier. All he wants to do is kiss Keith until they both run out of air. 

 

“You’ve got so much to offer, Lance,” Keith whispers. 

 

“Keith.” The words race out of Lance before he can even realize what he is saying, what he is feeling. Keith’s eyes widen before the words even escape Lance’s mouth. 

 

“I love you.” 

 

Lance can feel the punch in the gut before it even arrives. Keith’s grip loosens, and he jumps to his feet. The sound of the fire escape moving up and down is the only sound audible before Keith speaks. 

 

“It’s, uh, getting cold out here,” Keith says quickly, clearly desperate to get out of the situation. “I’ll leave you to your…” Keith doesn’t finish his sentence before he prys open the window and vaults inside. Lance says nothing as the boy he loves dashes into the apartment and back to bed, probably going to pack his things. 

 

“Fuck,” Lance’s voice shakes as a more painful sob rips through his body. “Fuck!” 

 

He takes a trembling hand and brings it to the beer bottle, draining the rest of it in one gulp. Carefully, he puts it down before burying his face in his hands. Hot tears slither in between his fingers. 

 

“Why did I do this?” he asks himself. “Why?!”

 

Lance curls up against the dirty plaster of his apartment. “I love you so fucking much! Why am I not enough? Why?” His words fade into cries. 

 

He tries not to scream too loud, not wanting to wake up the dobermans next door or his parents. But, holy shit, it takes so much energy not to. Lance feels like his body is being ripped apart. 

 

Keith just  _ left.  _ The others had told him no, said something. But Keith  _ left.  _ How could he be so dumb? How could he even expect Keith to love someone like  _ him? _

 

After a half hour passes, Lance watches the sun tickling the horizon. He decides he should get to bed before his mama wakes up and sees him out here. Before he goes inside, he pulls up his sleeves, letting the cold air sting them and his marks. A reminder of the cruel night. 

 

And right before his very eyes, as he wipes his cheeks with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, he witnesses the beautiful onyx black gave way to a vicious oxblood red. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS WAS SO SAD IT GETS BETTER I PROMISE
> 
> more drabbles on my tumblr: geckointhegarbage.tumblr.com  
> art tumblr: 88-20.tumblr.com  
> instagram: @88._.20


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> about the night before, ice skating, and surprises

Lance drags his heavy limbs back into bed fifteen minutes after his breakdown. When he glances at the cot on the floor, Keith is fast asleep, his black hair fanned out around his head. Lance sniffs, and curls up in a ball in his own bed, the cold from outside finally getting to him. 

 

At some point he drifts back to sleep because he is awoken by Veronica assaulting him with a pillow. 

 

“Wake,”  _ smack,  _ “Up,”  _ smack,  _ “Shithead!” Veronica yells, trying to wake up her little brother. 

 

Lance groans in response, and digs his face further into his pillow. “Lemme be,” he complains. 

 

Veronica isn’t discouraged by her brother’s attempts at five more minutes of sleep, and yanks the thick comforter out from his tight grip. 

 

“No! Gimme,” he cries, reaching blindly for the comforter. The blissful warmth that had once surrounded him has been replaced by frigid cold, and Lance is  _ not  _ a fan. 

 

“Dude, c’mon,” Veronica moans. “It’s eleven. Everyone’s up, and Mama wanted me to come and get you before Luis ate your pancakes.” 

 

Lance regretfully pushes himself up into a sitting position, glaring at Veronica. She smirks, and tosses the now-cold comforter onto the end of his bed. With one last taunting look, she struts into the short hallway and joins the rest of the family in the noisy kitchen. 

 

Lance looks sorrowfully back at his bed, before finally forcing himself back onto his feet. The hardwood is freezing, the cold leaking through his thick socks. He shuffles to the kitchen for food and hopefully a little warmth.

 

Veronica wasn’t lying: everyone else was wide awake and eating. Lance mutters his mandatory ‘good morning’s to everyone as he searches the counter for his plate. He does everything in his power to avoid eye contact with Keith. 

 

Keith is silent, eating his stack of pancakes. Lance steals a few quick glances at him, hoping that he doesn’t remember the previous night. Maybe he could play it off as some sort of dream. A hallucination maybe. Yeah. That’ll work. But then Lance remembers that he left his beer on the fire escape, so the whole hallucination plan is out the window. 

“How’d you sleep, Lance?” Lance’s mama asks him. She’s still cooking and cleaning in the kitchen, the apron she borrowed from Hunk covered in various food stains and flour. 

 

“Good,” Lance lies, stuffing a forkful of pancake into his mouth. “I wasn’t too cold. What about you guys?” 

 

“We were just fine, thank you Lance,” Lance’s father replies. He has attempted to get Nadia into her travel high chair for the past five minutes now with zero luck. Marcos tries one more time before Nadia screams in protest and kicks out her legs in fury, discouraging any more attempts from Marcos. 

 

“Keith, could you be a dear and help Marcos put Nadia into her high chair?” Angela’s sweet voice rings out from behind an open cabinet door. 

 

Keith nods and puts his plate in the sink before moving to attend the baby. He passes Lance on his way to Nadia, making no effort of acknowledging he is there. Keith gently takes Nadia in his arms, cooing at her. She calms down quickly, giggling and waving around her little fists as Keith carefully secures her into her high chair. Keith makes silly faces at her, laughing along with Nadia. Lance watches him, his definite feelings for Keith intensifying. 

 

“Lance, you good?” Veronica shakes Lance out of his trance. Lance blinks several times before making eye contact with Veronica, who is seated right next to him. “You good?” she repeats when he doesn’t answer. 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” Lance replies in a weary voice, drawing his attention away from Keith and back to the several bites of soggy pancake he has left on his plate. “Just a little tired still.” 

 

Veronica glances from Keith and Nadia back to Lance, a confused expression on her face, but doesn’t say a word. However, both Luis and Angela share a look from the otherside of the kitchen, and Angela looks ready to say something.

 

“So, what do you guys wanna do today?” Lance asks a split second later, attempting to break whatever weird tension everyone is noticing between him and Keith. “Walk around town? Ice skating?” 

 

“I was thinking we can walk around town. I’ll bring Nadia out and she can experience her first snow,” Margo suggests. “You kids can go off on your own if you’d like, after we get a few pictures.” 

“Good plan,” Angela agrees, finally taking off her apron. “I’m going to go shower and change. Everyone else go change in the meantime. We can all take turns using the bathroom and be out of here by twelve thirty.” 

 

“Yes, ma’am!” Luis salutes his mother jokingly and grabs Nadia’s dish of baby food. “I’ll shower after you. I’m just gonna feed Nadia first.” 

 

Angela silently nods, then quickly walks into the bathroom. Lance finishes his pancakes, and brings his plate over to the sink to begin washing the dishes. Luis and Margo make efforts to feed the still restless Nadia while Marcos and Veronica get into another heated discussion about something. He lathers the dish soap on a sponge and grabs a pan before he senses another presence next to him. 

 

Keith doesn’t meet his eyes as he wordlessly grabs a towel and begins drying the dishes. Lance watches him through the corner of his eye for several minutes as they work silently. Keith takes the wet dishes from Lance’s hands, then dries them and places them on a clean dish towel laid out on the small counter. Their elbows bump several times in the cramped space, and eventually Lance can’t take it anymore. 

 

“Keith, I’m sorry,” he blurts out, handing Keith a bowl. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

 

Keith looks behind him cautiously. Lance mirrors his movements. Marcos and Veronica were too engrossed in their conversation to bother listening to them, and Margo and Luis have enough on their plate already. They both deem the environment as safe, Lance’s gaze now begging Keith for a response. 

 

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Keith keeps his voice low. “I just...I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

 

Lance gives Keith the final handful of utensils, his eyes wide with shock, his heart pounding in his chest in fear. “Hurt my-” 

 

“Shower’s open!” Angela yells from down the hall, everyone pausing their current activities. 

 

Veronica and Luis meet each other’s eyes in a silent challenge. Veronica suddenly leaps up from her spot next to Marcos on the couch, almost knocking him over. Luis slides across the tile floor to the hallway. They both almost crash into each other, but Veronica throws out her hand and pushes Luis to the side, sending him tumbling into the wall. She grins slyly as she makes it to the bathroom and locks the door. 

 

Angela scolds Luis in Spanish for his silly behavior, telling him that he should’ve let his little sister use the bathroom instead of putting up a fight. Luis nods as she makes wild gestures with her hands, her words in one ear and out the other. She finally lets the last of her words out of her and sighs, walking back to the kitchen. Angela notices Lance and Keith standing by the sink and the pile of clean dishes and grins. 

 

“Aww, thank you boys!” she hugs both Lance and Keith, kissing their cheeks. “So sweet of you to help me clean. Now, Lance do you mind taking out the trash? And Keith, could you please help me clean the counters?” 

 

Both of the boys walk away from each other to finish what Angela had asked of them, absolute anxiety for the conversation to come eating at them both as they worked. 

 

.·:*¨♡¨*:·. .·:*¨♡¨*:·.

 

It took what felt like three years to get everyone dressed and ready to leave. The fact that Lance’s apartment is small and cramped did not help speed up the getting ready process for seven adults. Lance did a quick head count of the group as they all filed outside and down the thin metal stairs. Once everyone was accounted for, he trotted down the steps behind Keith. 

 

Everyone piled into Hunk’s minivan, with Lance at the wheel and Marcos in the passenger seat. After a few moments of quick maneuvering, they were able to fit everyone into the car. Lance backed out of the parking space, and turned onto the main road. He drove his family to downtown, where everything they wanted to do would be the most accessible. Parking is a nightmare, as it usually is, and all the yelling in the car from his parents doesn’t help. 

 

Finally,  _ finally,  _ Lance found a dingy old parking garage and is able to park the minivan and escape, what he is thinking of considering, a form of hell. Everyone exits the minivan with much chatter, and the group starts walking out of the garage and onto the sidewalk of a busy street. 

 

People hustle and bustle about, buying last minute Christmas gifts and dragging kids away from toy stores (or in the more wealthy folks’ case, the Apple Store). They stop in front of a huge hotel, a large fountain in the center of a miniature courtyard. Lance turns around to address the group, feeling more like a tour guide than their son or sibling.

“OK, so, we’re all splitting up now, correct?” he says. Everyone nods in agreement. 

 

“Whoever wants to hit up a bar, come with me. Everyone else is with Mama I guess,” Lance laughs. “Mama, I’ll text you where we’ll be!” 

 

Angela kisses Lance’s cheek. “Have fun, Lance.” 

 

“I will, Mama.” 

 

Veronica, Margo, and Angela walk towards a row of stores with Nadia, and Lance, Keith, Luis, and Marcos wave as they go in the opposite direction. Lance taps away on his phone as they walk, careful not to walk into anyone or any telephone poles. 

 

“Found one nearby, just a few blocks over,” Lance turns around as he tells the others behind him. He continues walking, almost knocking into a passerby. “Hunk and Pidge have tried it before. They said-” 

 

Suddenly, Lance feels a hand grab his bicep. The hand pulls him towards the owner, away from an old woman Lance was about to bump into. Lance apologizes to the woman as he is pulled into Keith. Lance almost loses his bearings, tripping over his feet. However, he’s able to recover, though not without snickers from Luis and Marcos. 

 

Lance shoots them a glare, shoves his phone in his pocket, and keeps walking. Luis engages Marcos in a conversation, leaving Keith and Lance in silence. Keith glances at Marcos and Luis, trying to join in with their conversation, but when they slow down and walk behind them it is proven impossible. 

 

Lance steals quick glances at Keith, who is actively avoiding his gaze. Keith stares at the ground as they walk, biting his bottom lip. Lance watches him for a few moments, before finally deciding that he has to say something. 

 

“Keith, what did you mean earlier?” Lance asks kindly. 

 

Keith shrugs, finding the wreaths strung between the lamp posts very interesting. “What’re you talking about?” he replies casually. 

 

“When we were washing the dishes, when you said you didn’t want to hurt my feelings,” Keith stops biting his lip, and Lance sighs, “What did you mean by that?”

 

Keith fixates his eyes on the horizon, Lance watching his face intently as he waits patiently for an answer. 

 

“I meant what I said,” Keith tries to explain. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

 

“Yeah, I get that,” Lance and Keith round a corner, “But what did you  _ mean  _ by that?”

 

Keith pulls down at his beanie with a gloved hand, his face contorted. “I meant that I didn’t want to hurt you.” Keith adds the last three words hesitantly, as if he isn’t sure if he wants Lance to know them or not. 

 

“Hurt me?” Lance lifts an eyebrow. “So like…” Lance let’s the sentence fade out as they stop at a light. They both already know how it is going to end anyway.

 

“Yeah. I’m so sorry, Lance,” Keith apologizes as they cross the crosswalk. “I really didn’t want to. I mean, you’re such a great guy. But I… I’m not ready yet. Not after James.” 

 

Lance smiles sadly, the rejection he knew was coming hitting him harder than he thought it would. “Yeah,” he whispers softly through his smile. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I just want you to be happy.”

 

Keith finally meets his eyes as they stop in front of the bar, a warm and thankful smile on his face. “Thank you,” he says as a breeze blows by. It knocks a couple strands of hair out from under the beanie and into Keith’s face. Lance wants to reach out and push those strands back, but he knows he can’t do that anymore. 

 

“This it?” Keith asks, nodding towards the bar they stopped in front of. 

 

Lance glances at the large sign in front of the door,  _ Pig’s Eye Pub.  _ “Yeah, yeah this is it,” Lance opens the door for Keith and Marcos and Luis, who just arrived behind them. “After you guys.”

 

They walk into the surprisingly busy pub, luckily able to get a table. Marcos and Luis sit together on one side of the table and Lance and Keith sit on the other. A waiter comes by and everyone orders their drinks, all the men getting different beers. The waiter checks Lance and Keith’s ID’s before taking their orders and going back to the bar. 

 

The group makes small talk while waiting for the drinks, Luis making comments about the weather and thanking Keith profusely for all of his help with Nadia that morning. Luis drones on and on about his and Margo’s search for a suitable car seat for Nadia, that Lance is silently thankful that receiving their drinks shut him up. 

 

“Let me know if you would like anything else!” the chipper waiter beams as he gives each of the men their beers. Then, he disappears into the swarm of people crowding the pub. 

 

Marcos waits for the waiter to leave before starting up conversation again. “So Lance,” he starts, taking a quick taste of his drink. “How’d you and Keith meet again?”

 

“We both work at Altea Books, remember Papa?” Lance explains. “Keith works the front while I work in the cafe. His brother also works in the cafe with me.”

 

Marcos nods in approval. “Very nice,” he comments. “So you two became fast friends then, hm?” 

 

Keith chuckles. “Not exactly. We both didn’t have the best first impression on each other.” 

 

Luis chimes in. “Do tell. Does it have something to do with Lance tripping over his shoelaces and spilling a perfectly good smoothie all over your new Jordans?”

 

Lance groans and buries his face in his hands in embarrassment. “That was  _ one  _ time, Luis.” 

 

“Well, not exactly,” Keith replies. “We just kinda rubbed each other the wrong way.”

 

“Your brother older than you?” Marcos asks, changing the subject suddenly. 

 

“Yeah,” Keith responds casually, sipping from his beer. 

 

“Married?”

“Mhmm. He and his husband Adam actually live somewhere around here.”

 

Marcos gives Keith a toothy grin. “That’s very nice.” He folds his fingers on the table, staring at them for a moment before speaking again. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

 

Lance puts his glass down on the table a bit too hard. Everyone looks at him for a second before turning their attention back to Keith. Keith rubs the back of his neck, biting the inside of his cheek. 

 

“Actually, I’m, uh, gay,” he stutters. “Just recently broke up with, um, someone.” Keith stares hard at the table, anticipating Marcos’ response. 

 

“Oh,” Marcos says lamely. “I’m sorry for the breakup.”

 

Keith looks up from the table, but is still tense in his shoulders. “It was nothing, really,” he lies. 

 

Lance flicks his eyes over to Keith, who meets his eyes and silently begs him to change the subject. Lance happily obliges. 

 

“Papa, why didn’t Annaliese come?” Lance asks. The question had been bugging him since they got here, but with everything that had been going on with the family and with Keith, he’d never had the right opportunity to inquire about his sister. 

 

Marcos sighs. “She had an art show on the twenty third, and didn’t want to miss it. And tickets were the cheapest on the twenty third so…” Marcos trails off for a moment before finishing his statement. “She really did want to come. Veronica even offered to stay home so she could come but,” Marcos shrugs, “you know Annaliese. She wanted the rest of us to come, insisted on it.” 

 

Lance’s shoulders droop. “Oh.” 

 

Marcos takes a sip from his drink. “It’s okay. Maybe next year,” he says hopefully. “Or maybe next year you can come to Cuba.”

 

Lance taps his fingernails on his glass. “I dunno, Papa. That’d really depend on work and…”

 

Lance looks up from his glass to see Marcos giving him the  _ look.  _ The “stop-blaming-something-else-you-know-this-is-your-fault” look. Lance despises that look, but he complies. It’s easier. 

 

Luis pipes up after Lance loses his thoughts, preventing any unwanted tension. “Mama texted.” He pulls out his phone and places it on the table. He reads through the texts and smiles. “She, Ronnie, and Margo are done shopping. They said Nadia’s acting up and that they can get what they need later. They’re on their way here.” 

 

Lance raises an eyebrow. “She didn’t say stupid expensive, did she?”

 

Luis chuckles. “She said  _ fucking  _ expensive.” 

 

Marcos rolls his eyes. “You boys know I don’t like those swear words.”

 

Luis playfully slaps his father’s shoulders. “Aw c’mon, Dad! Get hip with the kids.”

 

Marcos smiles thinly at his son’s antics. “Did they say when they’d get here?”

 

“You know that we’re right here, Dad,” a voice next to Keith says. 

 

Everyone at the table turns their heads towards Veronica, whose leaning on Keith’s chair. Angela and Margo are just a few steps behind her, Margo having to leave Nadia’s stroller at the front of the crowded pub. Nadia is fast asleep in her mother’s arms, sucking on a binky. 

 

The women pull up chairs and sit with the boys. The waiter comes around again and takes their orders, each of them ordering water. 

 

“Veronica, you’re really not going to have alcohol?” Lance snickers as he gulps down the rest of his beer. “That’s a shock, if I’m being honest.”

 

Veronica gasps. “You make it sound like I’m an alcoholic! And no, I’m not drinking because we’re going ice skating next and I don’t want to slip and fall on my ass, like you probably will.”

 

Lance freezes, his empty glass halfway down to the table. Now it’s Veronica’s turn to laugh. 

 

She wheezes, gently hitting her hand on the table. “Keith!” she cries. “You’re gonna see my brother  _ drunk  _ on  _ ice _ ! You have to tell all of his friends because, holy  _ shit _ , this is going to be incredible.”

 

Lance’s glass drops on the table with a  _ thunk _ . “I never said I would ice skate!” 

 

Angela turns away from her conversation with Luis at those words. “I said you are. So you will,” she says in a motherly voice before continuing to laugh at Luis’ joke like nothing happened. 

 

Lance groans and rubs his face with his hands, only making Veronica laugh harder. By this point, Keith is chuckling a little too at Lance in distress. 

 

Practically everyone in Lance’s family knew he is lightweight, and is practically completely drunk by his third or fourth drink. He has a feeling that Veronica decided that a drunk Lance would be fantastic on the ice and planted the idea in Angela’s head. Stupid older sisters. 

 

Keith finishes his drink. “So, Lance, you know how to ice skate?”

 

Lance nods. “Sober, yes. I did roller hockey, and ice skating is practically the same thing.” 

 

Veronica leans over to Keith and whispers something in his ear, and the both burst out laughing. Lance narrows his eyes at them. 

 

“Hey, Ronnie, what’d you say about me?” 

 

Veronica waves his question off. “Nothing you need to worry about,” she grins. He glares at them, but says nothing more. 

About fifteen minutes later, Angela decides that it is time for them to go ice skating. Marcos pays the bill, much to both Lance and Keith’s protests, and the entire group shuffles out the door and into the bitter cold. Veronica tells the family that she’d seen an ice rink back near the big fancy hotel they started at, across the street. Everyone nods in agreement as they follow Veronica through the streets of Hartford. 

 

Lance walks beside Keith like he did before, though this time only light, fluffy subjects are spoken about between the two. 

 

During this time, Lance learns quite a few things about Keith. He makes a list in his head as he learns them:

  1. Keith is lactose intolerant. He wasn’t lying when he said all that yogurt was for his cat, because there is absolutely _no way_ he could eat it. 
  2. Keith wanted to be an astronaut or a lawyer when he was younger, but never had the funds to. He said that he loved to stare up into space, and let himself be consumed by the vastness of it. 
  3. James wasn’t Keith’s first love. He developed a crush with a boy in high school, and that’s how he realized he was gay. That and he tried hooking up with a girl and he knew he was definitely _not_ straight after that encounter. 
  4. Keith can Fortnite dance. He refuses to demonstrate for Lance. 
  5. Keith’s dad was a firefighter and would paint with him when he got home from work. Keith still loves to paint. 



 

Lance wants their walk to the ice rink to never end. He wants to keep learning things about Keith, a stranger, a crush, a friend. Lance kept finding himself relating to the things and feelings Keith tells him about, like never really feeling like he belonged at the schools he went to. Not being able to achieve his dreams. His struggle to accept his sexuality. Lance finds himself genuinely interested in Keith and his life. It makes him feel weird on the inside, but the new feeling is oddly comforting and assuring. He feels secure. 

 

But, unfortunately, there is ice skating to do and Snapchats for Veronica to make. They arrive at the ice rink and have to force their conversation to come to a close. 

 

The rink is a large oval, with thick clear plastic windows on half of one side and a charcoal gray plastic wall on the other. People skate happily in the rink, some of the inexperienced skaters using stacks of buckets as a balance as they skate. A blond man is at the ticket booth, where they pay the admission fee and rent their skates. 

 

Keith volunteers to pay the fee and get everyone’s skates as they look for a place to sit. Margo takes her and Angela’s purse and places it in a locker the rink offers, and parks Nadia’s stroller along the outside of the rink. 

 

Keith returns quickly with the many pairs of skates, and everyone starts to pull them on. Lance is disgusted at the fact that he has to shove his foot into a pair of skates that someone with foot fungus has probably worn, but he sucks it up when his mom gives him the stink eye as soon as he complains. He prays he doesn’t end up with some weird foot disease and  _ die _ , but if he does, it’s not his fault. 

 

Thankfully, as everyone stands up and starts wobbling to the rink on the thin blades of their skates, Lance seems to be feeling pretty normal. He follows Luis in front of him as everyone wobbles onto the ice. 

Lance watches with a smug expression as practically everyone in his family, except for him and Veronica, are clutching at the plastic walls for dear life. He can tell none of them really got into the whole ice skating thing back in Cuba. 

 

Lance watches Keith as he takes a couple of unsteady steps towards him. Keith holds out his arms for balance as he skates towards Lance and Veronica, almost faceplanting before Veronica catches him. 

 

“Careful! Don’t fall before Lance. That’ll ruin my whole plan,” Veronica winks. Keith thanks her for her help, then is finally able to manage to make his way over to Lance. 

 

Keith almost slips again, but Lance is there to catch him. Keith digs him fingernails into Lance’s black bomber jacket as Lance steadies Keith at his elbows. 

 

Lance chuckles. “Dude, be careful. You’re gonna knock us both over.”

 

Keith lets go of Lance’s jacket and Lance lets go of him. 

 

“Sorry,” Keith says sheepishly. “I’m all good now.” He steadies himself on his feet, stuffing his hands into his pockets when he is sure he won’t fall. 

 

“So, you gonna show me up, hockey boy?” Keith teases. “Or are you gonna need to cling to me for support?”

 

Lance frowns while Veronica snickers and begins pulling out her phone. “C’mon, Lancey Lance. Show us what you got!” she laughs. 

 

Lance glances between Veronica and Keith, both with equally smug expressions on their faces. He mumbles a couple swear words under his breath as he starts to skate away. 

 

Lance speeds up, doing a lap around the rink easily. He passes Keith and winks. Lance decides that he’s feeling just fine and can add some more speed. He navigates around a little girl and her stack of buckets before reaching a large, empty space in the rink. Lance looks back for a moment at Keith and Veronica. Veronica now has her phone covering her face, no doubt filming. Keith is watching Lance, his eyes locked on him. He says something to Veronica, causing her shoulders to shake as she goes into a fit of laughter. Keith smiles gently at Lance as he meets Lance’s eyes as a silent encouragement. 

 

Lance’s heart beats faster. He circles the empty part of the rink before deciding, in newfound confidence, to attempt a spin. Lance has never tried one before on ice, only on his roller blades back in Cuba. Nevertheless, a cute boy is watching him, and he has to impress him. 

 

So Lance does the spin. He picks up his speed one last time, and puts all of his energy in the spin. He expects to be twirling gracefully like a trained Olympic figure skater, and Keith would be so impressed and taken with him, he would ask his hand in marriage on the spot. 

 

Okay, maybe some of that is unrealistic. He probably couldn’t spin like a trained Olympic skater, but Keith would surely immediately ask his hand in marriage. 

 

However, Lance does not calculate exactly how slippery ice is. He puts his energy behind the spin and twirls for a second, silently applauding himself, before the skate slips on the ice. It practically flies out from under him, and he goes crashing to the ground. Luckily, he’s able to throw out his arm in front of his face so he doesn’t break his nose. Unluckily, it may not be the same story for his arm. 

 

Hot, shooting pain runs up his arm like fire. Lance grits his teeth as he regretfully puts pressure on his right arm as he pushes himself off the dirty ice. In the background, he can hear Veronica wheezing from laughter. The video of his epic fail is probably all over the internet by now. He’ll be the new internet sensation. If he’s lucky, he’ll get an episode with Ellen. 

 

Lance winces as he finally gets back up to his feet, his right ankle feeling a little painful too as he put pressure on it. He doesn’t think he has any serious injuries, probably just nasty bruises. 

 

Lance doesn’t notice Keith awkwardly skate to his side from across the rink. Keith is still getting his bearings on the ice, but is now able to manage shuffling out into the center of the rink without tragically falling. 

 

“Dude, you okay?” Keith asks, a concerned expression on his face.. “That was a nasty fall.”

 

Lance nods, rubbing the forearm he fell on. “I’m fine.” The throbbing in his arm is calming down now, and he can move his elbow without it hurting too much. 

 

Lance watches Keith as his eyes flicker between Lance’s injured arm and his face, the look of concern still on his face. “What?” Lance says suddenly, cracking a crooked grin. “Not gonna make fun of me?”

Keith crosses his arms. “Wow, sorry for making sure you’re okay first before I text Shiro, Romelle, and Allura about this.” Keith smirks and starts skating back to Veronica, pulling out his phone from his back pocket teasingly as he does. 

 

Lance’s face morphs into an expression of horror, his mouth open and his eyes wide. “How  _ dare-, _ ” Lance mumbles under his breath. He trails behind Keith, weaving around passersby with ease. 

 

By the time he catches up with Keith, he’s rapidly typing something on his phone. Veronica is doing the same, though instead of looking sinister like Keith does, she’s smiling fondly at the text on her screen. 

 

Lance watches Veronica as she sends a text, one filled with a bunch of pink and red heart emojis. He eyes her when she grins softly, and sheepishly tucks a lock of her short brown hair behind her ear. 

 

“Hey, Ronnie,” Lance says teasingly as he skates behind her and looks over her shoulder at the phone screen, “who you texting?”

 

Veronica gasps, almost dropping her phone. “No one!” she says quickly. “Mind your own business, Lance.” 

 

Lance glares at her but decides not to push further. That’s what New Years is for, when they’re both drunk on cheap wine and beer and spill the entire year’s secrets to each other. It’s their favorite tradition. 

 

Keith finishes up his text and sends it, satisfied. He pockets his phone and winks at Lance, totally catching him off guard. 

 

“Shiro and Romelle said that you looked dumb enough to be on Ellen,” Keith says with a smirk. “Also Allura is gonna upload the video onto YouTube.”

 

Immediately after Keith finishes his sentence, he begins to skate away with wobbly strides. He makes it almost halfway across the rink before Lance registers what he said, still recovering from the wink. 

 

“Hey!” Lance yells after him as soon as the words make it through his head. “Fuck you!”

 

“Language!” Angela shouts at Lance as he wizzes by her and Marcos, both clutching at the wall. 

 

“Boys will be boys,” Marcos tuts, watching Lance and Keith chase each other relentlessly around the ice rink. 

 

By the time they leave an hour later, Lance never caught Keith, no matter how fast he skated or how hard he tried. 

 

  * ♥*♡∞:｡.｡　　｡.｡:∞♡*♥



The McClains (and Keith) are back at Lance’s apartment by five. They burst into the cramped apartment, laughing at a joke Luis just cracked. They’re stumbling over each other’s feet as they enter the tiny doorway, so caught up in their jokes and antics that they don’t notice the girl in the room.

A teenage girl is sitting on Lance’s couch, her feet tucked underneath her and her chocolate brown hair in a high ponytail. The oversized sweater she’s wearing covers her lean and tall body. She’s scrolling through her phone when the family enters, no one noticing but Lance. 

Lance shrieks when he sees her, though not at the fact that there’s an intruder in his house. He yells as he runs towards the couch and meets the girl in the middle, in one big, bone crushing hug. 

“Annaliese!” he practically screams, happy tears welling up in his eyes. “You’re here! You’re really here!” 

His sister giggles in his arms, regretfully pushing her older brother away so she could sign.  _ Hey Lance!  _ she signs,  _ I made it for Christmas.  _

Lance laughs again. “I can tell!” he says aloud. “How did you get here?”

Annaliese pushes Lance out of the way gently so she can scan the rest of the people in the room and find the person she’s looking for. When she finds him, she points at him and motions for him to come out from the group of McClains. 

Keith walks forward, smiling nervously. Annaliese runs over to him and grabs his arm, dragging him in front of the couch where Lance is standing. Lance gapes at them the entire time, putting the pieces together.

_ He bought me a last minute plane ticket _ , Annaliese signs, then points to Keith again for emphasis.  _ It was very nice of your friend. Papa called me yesterday and told me, and Tia took me to the airport this morning. Really, I can’t thank Keith enough. Can you tell him thank you for me? _

The entire time Annaliese is explaining, Lance is looking between Keith, Annaliese, and his Papa. Keith rubs the back of his neck, suddenly shy. 

“Keith…,” Lance says softly. “Thank you so much.”

Keith just shrugs, and lifts the corners of his mouth up. “You mentioned Annaliese and how badly you wanted to see her. So I thought I would...y’know.” 

Lance quickly stands up, and pulls his wallet out of his jacket pocket. “Keith, that must’ve been so expensive. Let me-”

Before Lance can even finish his sentence, Keith lays a hand over Lance’s. 

“This is your Christmas present, Lance. No need to pay me anything,” he says sweetly. 

Lance is persistent. “Keith, c’mon. Just let me-”

Keith squeezes Lance’s hand. “Hey. It’s a Christmas gift, okay? Spend time with your family.”

Lance keeps his eyes locked on Keith’s, his stare unwavering. 

“Put your wallet back, okay? Don’t worry about flying Annaliese back, either. Already got that covered.” Keith doesn’t give Lance time to retort before he is walking into the kitchen as the rest of the family gives their thanks to Keith, and converages on Annaliese for one big McClain family group hug. 

Keith watches from the kitchen counter as the entire family hugs Annaliese and she signs to them about her flight. Keith starts to take out his phone and check his messages before he gets a text from Lance. 

**Lance:** thank you. i owe you one, samurai ;)

Keith looks up at Lance, who’s sitting on an arm of the couch, watching him and smiling. Keith smiles back, and texts him. 

**Keith:** it’s what friends are for

**Keith:** also i still have one of james’ credit cards sooo….

**Keith:** had to make use of it, right?

Lance laughs from the other side of the room, interrupting Annaliese’s story. His family looks at him for an explanation, as to how Tia Valeria almost breaking her ankle yesterday was so funny.

Lance chuckles, and shrugs. “I’m just, uh, so happy Annaliese is here,” he explains lamely. The rest of the family takes his mediocre explanation, eager to hear more from Annaliese. 

Lance can feel his heart pounding in his chest for the rest of the evening, stealing quick glances and looks at Keith the entire time. Because he’s the man who he’s in love with. Because he’s the man who finally brought his family back to him. 

Because he’s the man that will never love Lance back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this makes up for all the pain last chapter :') probably not, but i hope you enjoyed the fluff and flirting in this chapter lol
> 
> tumblr (taking writing requests atm!!): geckointhegarbage.tumblr.com  
> art tumblr: 88-20.tumblr.com  
> instagram: @88._.20
> 
> edit (january 23, 2019): sdsk im so sorry but im dumb and spilled water all over my computer so i may not have ch. 8 up by thursday :( i'll try my best to try and get it up by the end of the week though !!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the family spends the day out, and keith gets close to someone unexpected

Lance wakes up the following morning to screaming.

Luckily, not “there’s a serial killer” screaming, but “there’s a baby in your room and it needs attention now” screaming. Particularly screaming from Nadia.

Luis and Margo set up Nadia’s crib in Lance’s room, since it is the only room that has enough space for it. Lance thought it would be no big deal, especially since she was so quiet the first night. Turns out she was just tired from travel, and now wants to scream her puny lungs out.

Lance groans, pushing himself out from under the warm comforter of his bed. He’s careful not to wake Keith as he tip toes in the dark to the corner where Nadia’s crib is. Lance is amazed at how Keith is still asleep through all of Nadia’s crying.

Lance reaches the crib where a screaming Nadia is crying and waving around her tiny hands and feet. Lance carefully picks her up, checking her diaper if she’d gone bathroom. Nope, diaper clean. Which means she’s just crying for attention. Nadia is _definitely_ a McClain.

Lance cradles Nadia in his arms, tip toeing on the freezing cold floor back over to his bed. He sits down carefully, wincing at the high pitched _creak_ that echoes throughout his room.

“Shh,” he whispers softly to Nadia. “I’m right here.” She still cries.

Lance adjusts the position he’s holding her, opting for resting her head on his shoulder. He also decides that it will be easier for her to calm down if he walks around his room. He stands back up and starts pacing, making slow laps around his moonlit room.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Lance asks Nadia in a soft voice. She screams louder in response. “I get those sometimes too. They suck, huh?”

Nadia doesn’t give him a coherent response, but Lance keeps talking to her, careful to keep is voice down so he doesn’t wake Keith. “I had one last night. And you should never, _ever_ do this, but your Tio Lance decided to drink his fears away.” Lance chuckles. “I mean, you kind of do that with your milk, but that’s not the point.”

Nadia starts to tire herself out, beginning to grip at Lance’s t-shirt and pulling at it, exposing part of his lower back. “It was about all the people I’d loved before. All the people that didn’t love me back,” Lance tells her. His eyes flicker down to Keith, whose face is covered by the blanket over him. “Keith was in it.”

“So was Allura, and Joshua. And Jenny. It sucks after a while, you know that Nadia? It really sucks.” Nadia only kicks her legs in response.

“I went out to the fire escape with my… drink. And I cried. Just like you are right now, Nadia. And then, do you know who came out to talk to me? I bet you won’t guess, Nadia.” Nadia shrieks.

“That’s right. It was Keith. He came out to talk to me. He cared about me, that night. And I told him what I was feeling. I’ve never done that before, you know that Nadia? Never before. And he hugged me and I cried some more.” Lance exhales softly. “We both are cry babies, aren’t we, Nadia?”

“But then I slipped up. That seems to happen a lot, with me. I told Keith a bit too much. I told him that I loved him.” Nadia settles herself into Lance’s shoulder, finally calming down. “I shouldn’t have done that, even though it’s true. I love Keith Kogane.”

“But, doesn’t look like he loves me. My mark even turned red. You’re gonna get marks soon too, though not too many. And not too soon. You really don’t want to end up like your Tio Lance. Your Tio Lance loves too many people who don’t give him a second thought. Your Tio Lance really needs to just...keep to himself.”

Nadia finally drifts off to sleep, breathing gently into Lance’s ear. “Keep to myself,” Lance repeats, though more for him than for Nadia. She breathes softly, squirming a little when Lance puts her back into her crib. Lance watches her for a few moments, making sure she doesn’t wake, before sliding across the floor to his bed.

He carefully lifts the covers and slides back into his comfy bed. Lance lays on his side for a few minutes, letting his body be pulled back to sleep. The entire time, he stares at the ground where Keith is asleep.

Keith’s black hair is tied up in a messy ponytail, stray hairs sticking out of the red hair tie. The small mole on his jaw is visible from Lance’s view. He really wants to kiss it. Keith breathes slowly, his bangs slowly being blown out of his face by his breath. His eyelashes flutter slightly as he dreams. One of his hands is resting by his face, his several of his fingertips visible from under his face. Lance’s chest warms when he notices that the scarred fingertips that Keith had when he met him were healing.

Lance watches him sleep, noting in the back of his mind how it was kind of creepy. He doesn’t care. This may be the only time, the last time, Lance will see him like this, calm and relaxed. Lance smiles softly as he gets pulled back into dreamland, void of a single nightmare.

  * ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊



“Okay, it’s Mama’s turn next,” Luis instructs, taking a wrapped present from under the “tree”  and handing it to his Mama.

Angela begins to eagerly tear through the wrapping paper while Marcos and Margo take pictures of her. They make sure to capture the snow behind her on her first white Christmas. Lance, Keith, and Annaliese watch her from the floor as she tears the paper to reveal a fancy pair of earrings from Margo.

“Oh Margo, _mija,_ thank you so much!” Angela gushes as she leans over Marcos to give Margo a quick hug. “You didn’t have to!”

“It’s Christmas, Mama. I saw these in that store that you like and I immediately thought of you,” Margo beams.

“Aw, how sweet!”

Luis looks down under the “tree” (really a cardboard cut out of a tree, there was not enough room in the apartment for a real one) and grabs another present. He skims the tag on the side of the rectangular box and waves it in Veronica’s direction.

“From Lance,” Luis says simply as Veronica takes the box from him, eyeing her younger brother.

Veronica starts to open the box cautiously. “Lance if this box has a tarantula, or glitter, or is completely empty except for a note that says, ‘You know I had to do it to ‘em’, I will not hesitate to tell the doll story.”

Lance frowns. “What, you have no faith in me? And you can’t tell the doll story, that is just not fair.”

Veronica rolls her eyes and rips open the gold wrapping paper, squealing excitedly as the words _Nintendo Switch._ She hugs the box, and Lance laughs.

“You like it? It’s a little used-sorry about that-but I saw it online and you said you wanted one so,” Lance shrugs. “I can be a good brother every now and again.”

“Thank you, Lance!” Veronica shrieks, then leans down towards the floor to hug her brother, where he was sitting cross legged. Lance hugs her back.

“Don’t forget to look at the note on the back,” he says when she pulls away. Veronica flips over the box, confused, then screams a very inappropriate curse word to say in the presence of a baby. Taped to the back of the box is a Post-It note with an upside down “OK” hand sign. Both Veronica and Lance knew their meme culture, and this is probably the only Lance could’ve messed with the otherwise flawless gift.

Luis’ shoulders shake as he takes the next gift out from under the “tree”. It’s a red bag, with white tissue paper protruding out of the top. He flips over the small tag hanging over the side and reads the label, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

Luis turns around and hands it to Annaliese, who points at herself, confused. She’d already gotten a gift from her parents, Luis and Margo, Lance, and Veronica. Did Luis read the tag wrong?

She takes the bag hesitantly, before Luis starts signing. _From Keith,_ he says. Annaliese and Luis look at Keith, who is trying his best to sink into his oversized hoodie.

“From Keith?” Marcos repeats out loud. He, and the rest of the family, turn to look at Keith, putting him on the spot. Lance gasps gently, a little shocked.

“I-you guys have been so kind to me over the holidays, letting me hang out with your family. So I thought I’d…,” Keith shrugs nervously, his face starting to get redder by the second, and nods his head towards the bag Annaliese is holding. “You guys made me feel like a part of the family, so this is the least I can do.”

Annaliese grins widely, and starts quickly signing at Keith. Lance watches her movements, and after she finishes, begins to translate for Keith. “She says thank you. She, and the rest of the family, love having you around. You’re practically a McClain already,” Lance says, his voice a higher pitch than usual, “And really, you didn’t have to do this, Keith. You already brought Annaliese over to spend the holidays with us. This is too much.” The rest of the family say their quick _thank you_ ’s and nod along to Lance’s words.

Keith shook his head. “It’s okay. Just let me,” he says simply, turning his attention back to Annaliese, who is clearly itching to open her surprise gift. Angela puts her hand on Annaliese’s shoulder, letting her know she can open it now. Annaliese carefully shuffles through the bag, and pulls out a rectangular metal tin and a pad of paper. She smiles as wide as she can, a few happy sounds escaping her throat.

Without warning, she jumps up and runs over to Keith, engulfing him in a hug. Keith hesitates for a moment before returning it, the sudden embrace catching him by surprise. He smiles and softly says, “You’re welcome,” as she squeals.

“What’d he get her?” Luis whispers to Angela.

Angela leans down to get closer to Luis. “The pencils we couldn’t buy her.”

Marcos and Angela share a smile and a knowing look, everyone else just as elated as Annaliese is. Annaliese finally lets go of Keith, and starts to sign.

Lance watches her, still speechless by the touching gift Keith got his youngest sister. He opts for translating for Keith before saying his piece. “She says that she can never thank you enough, and that you made her year. She loves the pencils, and has been wanting them for a while. She wants to know how you knew she wanted them,” Lance translates, and Annaliese nods rapidly as he talks.

Keith has a hard time talking because of his wide smile. “Well, Lance had told me you liked art. And I use those pencils when I do my pieces, and thought you might like a pack,” Keith tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m glad you like them, Annaliese.”

She gives Keith one more quick hug before going back to her seat on the couch, running her fingers over the cool tin of the colored pencil packaging.

Luis distributes the final presents. Each of the final ones were from Keith, one for each member of the family. Even Nadia got a small blanket.

Keith had gotten Angela a charm bracelet, Marcos a set of beer glasses, Luis a set of shot glasses, Margo a necklace, and Veronica a game for her Switch (“How’d you know I’d be getting a Switch?” “Lance isn’t very good at hiding presents.” “Makes sense.”).

Finally, it is time for Lance’s gift. Luis hands him the final gift under the tree. It is a perfect square, topped with a bow. The baby blue wrapping paper makes Lance smile softly as he takes it from Luis’ hands. He takes the box carefully, Keith watching him anxiously as he hugs his knees closer to his chest. The heavy weight of the box almost makes Lance drop the box when it is passed to him. _What could possibly be in here, a bunch of rocks?_

“Hope you like it,” Keith mumbles into his sweatpants.

Lance sighs happily. “I’m sure I will, Samurai.” He pulls at the ribbon hanging out of the bow and watches it unfurl. He lifts off the tape on both sides of the box before tearing the rest of the paper away to reveal… a plain cardboard box.

It reminds Lance of a shoebox, though it has no design on it at all. Lance starts to lift up the top of the box, and has to keep himself from gasping when he sees what’s inside.

Inside the box, there is a stack of the books that Lance had on his wishlist. Whenever Lance and Keith would sort the books that just came in and place them on the shelves, Lance would write down any books he found interesting. He’d put the list up on the _Wishlist Wall_ , where Allura asked the employees to keep a list of book recommendations and suggestions for customers. Lance is completely speechless. He didn’t think anyone would pay attention to his list, since a majority of it was stupid comic books and fantasy novels. But Keith did.

The box had almost ten books from his wishlist. A copy of his wish list is taped to the book on the top of the stack, each title in the box having a tiny red check mark next to it. In the bottom, empty space of the note, there’s something extra that wasn’t on the original wish list.

_Merry Christmas Lance! Thanks for letting me hang out during the holidays. Surprisingly, you do make better company than Scarlet. You’re really hard to shop for, so I hope the books are okay. If not, there’s a gift receipt at the bottom._

_-Samurai_

Lance brushed his fingers over the note, speechless. Keith somehow knew _exactly_ what he wanted, without him having to say a word. Keith was able to come up with the most perfect gift for him, and Lance has absolutely no idea how to react.

Obviously he’s happy. Overjoyed. But he has no idea how to show Keith that he is. His heart is thundering in his chest, his cheeks hurting from smiling so wide. Keith remembered. Keith _knew._

Without warning, Lance swivels around to Keith and wraps him tight in his arms. Keith lets out a small, “oof,” when Lance hugs him. Keith’s hair tickles Lance’s face gently as he pulls Keith closer. After giving himself a moment to process what is happening, Keith hugs him back, though noticeably closer than he did with Annaliese.  

“Thank you,” Lance breathes, hugging Keith tighter.

Lance can feel Keith smile into his hoodie. “Of course,” he whispers back.

Lance pushes himself out of Keith’s arms, smiling warmly at him. Keith returns the smile, then nods towards the box.

“Check out the books,” he instructs. Lance happily begins to dig through the box, bringing out title after title of exciting sci-fi and fantasy novels, as well as a few comic books. Lance feels giddy as he opens a few and runs his fingers over the crisp pages.

Lance finally gets to the bottom of the box, and finds a book he doesn’t recognize from his list. He picks it up gingerly and reads the cover of the fairly thin novel.

“ _Voltron: Legendary Defenders_?” Lance thinks aloud, staring at the intricately decorated cover with mechanical lions and scenes of space and aliens. He flips the book over and skims the summary, finding himself captivated by the summary.

“‘Five teenagers from Earth find themselves in an intergalactic war when a mechanical lion calls out to them and transports them into outer space,’” Lance reads. He flips through the book, catching various words and phrases. Overall, Lance finds himself excited to read the book.

“It’s one of my favorites,” Keith explains. “Written by Lauren Montgomery, Joaquim Dos Santos, and Tim Hendrick. It’s a rewrite and new interpretation of this manga that was popular in Japan in the eighties.” Keith shrugs. “Allura had a few copies in stock and I thought you might enjoy it.”

Lance runs his thumb over the raised paperback cover as he neatly places it back in the box on top of the other books. He closes the box slowly, before wrapping an arm around Keith’s shoulders and giving him a hug. Keith hugs him back, ready for it this time.

“Thanks, Mullet,” Lance whispers.

“Anytime,” Keith whispers back. He pulls away.

“Alright, so that’s everything then?” Angela says, looking nervously at the mess of wrapping paper and ribbons. “Does anyone want to help me clean up while Marcos makes breakfast?”

Lance and Keith both volunteer, taking big armfuls of the wrapping paper and stuffing it into a trash bag. Lance then grabs a coat and runs out into the snow to dump it into the dumpster behind the building.

By the time he gets back, a warm plate of eggs, toast, and bacon is waiting for him. Lance takes a seat at the kitchen table, in between Veronica and Luis.

“Hey guys,” Lance says as he sits down. Neither reply. They’re fixated on something behind Veronica, near the couches. Lance taps Luis’ shoulder to get his attention, confused at what they’re looking at. Then he sees it, and Lance feels like he could cry.

Keith is sitting on the couch while he waits for his breakfast, Nadia seated upright in his lap. She’s bouncing up and down on his knees, giggling. Keith is smiling so wide his cheeks probably hurt, laughing with her when she claps her hands together. He leans in and plants a quick kiss on her forehead, and she shrieks before going into another fit of laughter. When Keith leans back, she reaches out to tug at his bangs, pulling gently on a few pieces. His gaze on Nadia is so tender and soft, Lance would have collapsed if he wasn’t already sitting.

“Holy shit,” Lance whispers, not realizing that he’d said it aloud.

“Holy shit indeed,” Veronica replies. “If I wasn’t a lesbian, I’d totally tap that.” She smirks, and turns her attention away from Keith back to Lance. “You know, _you_ could tap that. We all know about your thing for men and babies.”

Lance flushes bright red. “It’s not a thing! It’s just…” Lance huffs. “Men and babies.”

Veronica snickers. “Yeah. It’s a thing.” She swivels around fully, Luis following her.

Lance sighs, too hungry to argue with his sister. He starts to eat his breakfast, stealing glances at Keith and Nadia when he can.

“You know,” Veronica says as she piles scrambled eggs onto her fork, “I thought Keith was a hardcore, emo rock dude when you first introduced him. Didn’t think he could be such a softie.”

“Hardcore emo rock dude?” Lance questions. “Where’d you get that from?”

“The mullet, wearing mostly black, the general ‘don’t talk to me, ever’ vibe,” Luis chimes in. “He’s kinda scary, man.”

Lance looks at both of them, bewildered. “What?! No way. He’s totally not like that! He’s a really nice guy, and he doesn’t really put off that kind of vibe.”

Veronica points her fork at him. “Dude, seriously? Are you that whipped? Add a little bit of eyeliner and some tattoos and he’d be the next MCR lead singer.”

Lance groans, picking at his food. “Okay fine,” he admits. “He is a little emo, but he’s still really sweet!”

“Aw, thanks Lance,” a voice says behind him. Lance whips around, met with Keith and Nadia. Keith casually rests Nadia on his hip, Nadia playing with his loose t-shirt. “I think you’re sweet too.”

Lance buries his face in his hands. “Kill me now,” his muffled voice says.

He hears Keith snort in laughter. “Luis, do you mind taking her while I eat?”

“Yeah of course,” Luis responds, cooing at his daughter as she is deposited into his arms. Keith walks off and Veronica punches Lance in the shoulder.

“Hey, doofus, you can look now.”

Lance uncovers his eyes, leaning his head into his palm. He notices Veronica smirking and smiling sinisterly. “You’re not allowed to use that for anything, it proves nothing.”

Veronica gets up to place her plate in the sink, shaking her head in disapproval. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

. 　*   . . * ˚  · 　

✵  * 　     + ✹

.   *　　　  ✷ . ✫

　　 　　　　　 ˚    ⊹

　　　　　  　　. 　　　　 ✦ *

The days preceding New Year’s Eve were not very eventful. The family went out a few times to the city, making trips to New Haven and even making a day trip to a ski resort in Hartford. No one besides Lance and Veronica knew how to ski, though, so it wasn’t as much fun as the family had hoped.

The preparation for New Year’s Eve was insane. Lance and Keith made a total of four different trips to four different grocery stores trying to gather everything on Angela’s list. Lance was not surprised to learn that the list contained almost eight different cheeses.

Veronica, Annaleise, and Margo were tasked with finding clothes for everyone. Angela wanted everyone to be in matching colors and patterns, and sent Veronica examples from Pinterest. They went to Target, practically buying the store out of cranberry colored shirts and dresses.

Luis, Marcos, and Angela decided to deep clean Lance’s apartment. Lance argued against it at first, saying that there wasn’t going to be anyone else in the apartment but them, Besides, everyone has already seen what it was like beforehand. Angela ignored him and poured bleach into a bucket.

The morning of December thirty first, Angela sends everyone out on one last round of errands. Lance and Keith head to the grocery store again, hopefully for the last time. Luckily, this time it is for alcohol.

Lance sighs as he shifts the gear into park. “You know,” he starts to say as he takes the keys out of the ignition, “I’m really starting to get tired of Safeway.”

Keith chuckles in the seat beside him, pushing open his door. “Yeah, you and me both buddy.”

When they get inside, the store is crowded with people. What feels like the entire population of North America is shuffling around the small Safeway, grabbing whatever is left on the shelves. Lines as long as telephone wires weave through aisles, and tired cashiers quickly bag customers’ items before hurrying them out the door. It is an absolute nightmare.

“Geez,” Keith mumbles, “At least we weren’t here on Christmas.”

“Oh, that would have been hell,” Lance agrees. He pulls out the note his mama had scribbled on a Post-It note before they left. The only words legible were _wine_ and _tequila._

“So I guess we need to buy wine and tequila,” Keith says as he peers at the list over Lance’s shoulder. Keith can feel Lance’s shoulder rumble as he laughs quietly.

“Yes, it seems so,” Lance grins. The two navigate through a few lines in an attempt to get to the other side of the store. However, Keith gets sucked into the crowd about three aisles in, and Lance has to track him down.

“Keith! Buddy? My man?” he yells into the crowd. “Keith!” he draws out his name, cupping his hands around his mouth.

A gray beanie emerges from the crowd. “Here!” he gasps, apologizing after elbowing an elderly man. Keith leaps out of the crowd and in front of Lance, who is hiding in a people free zone in between the aisles at the back of the store.

“So, going in separately isn’t something we can do,” Lance grins. “Try and keep up, Kogane.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “You know what-,” Keith begins to say, before his and Lance’s pinkies brush. Both of them look down at their hands, Lance trying to hide the sudden flash of pink dusting his cheeks. Then he gets an idea.

“I have an idea!” Lance announces. Before Keith can even open his mouth to ask what it is, Lance grabs Keith’s hand and begins weaving through the crowd. He can feel Keith dragging him back, but he doesn’t stop. Lance continues shuffling through and past people, Keith in tow. Before he knows it, he’s laughing. And Keith is laughing too.

Keith loosens his grip on Lance’s hand, catching up to him as they sprint across the store like two little kids. He follows Lance’s lead as they finally make it past the bakery and into the aisle where the various types of alcohol are kept.

Both boys gasp for breath, Keith leaning into Lance as they let out the last bits of laughter. Keith lowers his head as he breathes in, his nose tickling Lance’s neck.

Lance is frozen in place. His brain is still trying to catch up with his heart, which is beating a million beats a second. Keith is still letting out the last breaths of laughter against Lance’s neck and collarbone, the air his exhales feeling like feathers tickling Lance’s skin.

Lance almost regrets letting Keith pull away. Keith looks up at him with a smile still on his face, oblivious to what he just did to Lance’s heart. Lance smiles back.

“Well...my idea worked,” Lance croaks.

Keith looks around, as if just realizing he is surrounded by rows and rows of cheap drink. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess it did.”

Lance goes over to a shelf and starts looking for the bottles on his mama’s list, as well as a few drinks for himself, Luis, Veronica, and Keith. Keith follows him silently, making comments here and there and taking some of the bottles in his arms.

Lance finally decides that they have enough alcohol to last them one night, with three bottles of wine, a bottle of tequila, some vodka, and two six packs of beer. The old lady working the cash register probably thinks that they were two college kids getting ready to throw a rager.

Keith holds the bottles the best he can in the truck, hugging the plastic bags. Lance notices his death grip on the bags. “You know you don’t have to hold on that tight, right? They aren’t going anywhere.”

“‘m protecting them from the cold,” Keith mumbles, his breath visible in the freezing air.

“No one likes warm drinks, Keith,” Lance responds.

Keith just rolls his eyes and stares out the window, but Lance can feel his chest warm when he sees the gentle smile on his lips.

  * .・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．



“Leandro Charles McClain get your ass out of there!” Veronica pounds her fist on the bathroom door and almost shakes it off its hinges.

Lance groans, shaking droplets of water out of his hair. “Give me five minutes, Ronnie!”

“You said that ten minutes ago! C’mon, there’s only one bathroom.”

Lance mutters a string of curse words to himself. He grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist, and takes his comb and daytime clothes in a clump in his hands. Lance opens the bathroom door, scowling at Veronica as she cheers and runs into the bathroom.

Lance trudges into his bedroom and closes the door, getting ready to change before he notices something moving in the reflection of the mirror.

“So, you really do have a six pack,” Keith says under his breath.

“ _Dios mio!_ ” Lance shouts, turning around and almost tripping into Nadia’s crib. “Don’t scare me like that, Keith!”

Keith chuckles from where he is seated on Lance’s bed, his phone laying forgotten in his lap. He’s already dressed in a cranberry button up and black jeans, his hair tied back in a neat ponytail.

“If anything,” he says, “you scared me.”

“You don’t just sit in somebody's room all alone!”

“And you don’t walk into any room half naked. Guess we’re both at fault here.”

Lance runs his hand through his still damp hair. “Okay, unless you’re gonna stare at me while I change-which I totally don't mind by the way-,” he winks, “I’m going to need you to get out.”

Keith groans and gets off the bed, walking to the door with his phone. “Lance, why can’t you just get changed in the bathroom like a normal person? That way I wouldn’t have to get up.”

Lance gasps dramatically. “First of all, _you’re_ a heathen. No one changes in a bathroom! And second of all, if you don’t leave in two seconds I’m just going to start changing so-”

The bedroom door slams shut before Lance can even finish his sentence.

Lance scoffs and finally starts to change. He pulls on a pair of dark wash jeans with a white collared shirt, and adds a cranberry sweater on top, per his mama’s color code. Finally, he runs his comb through his hair and spritzes on cologne before he decides he can finally leave the room.

The entire family is waiting outside for him in the living room. The TV blares with music from the musicians who perform in Times Square. Everyone is chatting amongst themselves, enjoying the appetizers Angela slaved over all day.

Lance joins his family, grabbing some cheese and a cracker from a platter on the kitchen table. It’s not long before he is approached by Luis.

“Dude, we’ve been waiting for you!” he yells a little too loudly, patting Lance on the back with the hand that is not carrying a bottle of beer. ‘What took you so long?”

“Veronica stole the bathroom from me.”

“Hey, dipshit, I’m right here,” Veronica gestures to herself as she stops to grab a cracker.

“Language!” Angela scolds as she adds more cheese to the plate.

Veronica mutters an apology before continuing with her point. “Lance, I took a shower, got dressed, and did my makeup before you came out of your room. What were you doing in there anyway?”

Coincidentally, Keith decides to join them. “Hey,” he says casually. “Glad to see you showed up, Lance.”

Over Keith’s shoulder, Lance can see Veronica and Luis share a Look. They giggle and go off to watch Marcos and Annaleise play in their annual chess tournament. Lance glares at them.

“Lance?” Keith meets his eyes when lance is silent for a few seconds. “You good?”

Lance shakes himself out of his train of thought. “Hm? Yeah, yeah, sorry about that,” Lance apologizes, “Just zoned out for a second there.”

Keith raises an eyebrow at him skeptically, but doesn’t ask anymore questions. “Okay.”

Keith follows Lance as he opens the fridge to grab a beer. “So, you’re my shadow all night?” Lance says a little too harshly. He sucks in a sharp breath.

Keith shakes his head quickly. “No, no, sorry. I just, um, I kinda feel like I’m intruding? Like this is just supposed to be a family thing and I don’t want to ruin it for-”

Lance stops him mid sentence by covering Keith’s mouth with his hand. “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t worry about that, okay? You’re an honorary McClain. My family adores you. We love having you, okay? It wouldn’t be New Year’s Eve without you.”

Lance slowly removes his hand. Keith stares at him, at a loss for words. Lance opens his drink with the parakeet shaped bottle opener sitting on the counter. He throws the bottle cap into the open trash can before draping an arm around Keith’s shoulders and guiding him into the living room.

Marcos and Annaliese are both fixated on the chess board. Lance knows nothing about chess, so he just has to stare at the board as if he knows what’s going on until Margo shrieks, “Annaliese, you got this! Just move your pawn!”

Annaleise waves her off, and continues to stare at the board. She starts to move a nervous hand over to her knight sitting near the king, and makes the move. She watches tentatively as Marcos tuts.

“Oh, sweetie you were so close, but so far!” Marcos uses his king to eliminate her knight. As he does, her face morphs from nervousness into triumph.

He knits his eyebrows, confused. That is, until she uses her pawn from behind and puts his king in check.

 _I think more close than far, Papa,_ she signs, victorious, as the living room erupts into cheers and whoops.

Lance lets go of Keith and runs over to the couch to hug his little sister. “That’s my badass little sister!” he cheers at the top of his lungs. “Hell yeah!”

Marcos buries his head in his hands. “ _How_?” he asks Annaleise. She shrugs smugly.

 _Sorry, Papa. Maybe next year,_ she shoots him another smug grin before reaching across the chess board to take a sip of her Coke.

Angela lets out a fit of booming laughter and hugs her husband. “You tried, _amor._ But she got you good!”

Marcos is red in the face with embarrassment and glee for his daughter. “Until next time, Anna,” he says, holding out his hand. Annaliese takes it and shakes it, ending the Annual McClain Chess Tournament for another year.

“Maybe next year I’ll be able to make it into the final round with you, Annaliese,” Lance jokes, kissing her cheek.

She laughs. _Sure. We’ll see about that._

Everyone takes turns hugging and congratulating Annaliese, as well as making good-natured jokes towards Marcos about his “epic loss.”

“Papa, at least you tried. But Annaliese does have your brains!” Luis teases.

Marcos chuckles. “You’re right on that, Luis.”

Lance gives one last hug to Annaliese before running over to Keith, who is standing in a corner far away from the rest of the party.

“C’mon!” Lance tells him as he tugs on his bicep, dragging him into the fray. “You’re an honorary McClain! Join the party!”

Keith tries to refuse, pulling back and dragging his feet, but that does nothing to stop Lance.

“Hey Keith!” Margo greets as she hoists Nadia up higher on her hip.

“Hi,” he says awkwardly. “Congrats on your win, Annaliese. That was pretty awesome.”

 _Why, thank you. I do my best,_ she signs smugly. _Thanks again for the pencils, by the way. I got a chance to try them this morning and they work amazingly_

Keith looks between her and Lance, biting his lip. “Lance, can you, um,” Keith asks nervously.

“Oh! Yeah of course!” Lance exclaims. “She said, ‘Why, thank you. I do my best.’ She also wants to thank you again for the pencils. She got to try them out earlier and they work amazingly.”

Keith turns back to Annaliese to respond, the others now gone back to conversing amongst themselves. “Glad you like them. They used to be my favorite medium to work with before I got introduced to acrylic paint.”

Annaliese signs something excitedly for Lance to translate. Lance grins as he translates the words for Keith, “She asked if you could show her a few techniques. Like blending and stuff, while we wait for Mama to finish the rest of the food.”

Keith stares at Lance, wide-eyed, before replying. “I’d love to,” Keith replies. Annaliese smiles and grabs his arm as she guides him to Pidge’s room. Keith waves awkwardly at Lance as they walk away. Lance waves back, happy that Keith is finally feeling like he is a part of the family.

Lance sits on the couch for a few minutes, occasionally taking sips of his beer. Mariah Carey is performing some iconic song of hers on the TV, the crowd in Times Square singing along gleefully. He checks the time on his phone while he watches, the blinding white digits reading ten fifty-two.

“How you doing, champ?” Margo slides onto the couch next to Lance, a wine glass in her hand.

“Okay I guess,” Lance replies, eyeing the drink in her hand. “Where’s Nadia?”

Margo takes a sip of the white wine. “Actually, Keith volunteered to watch her.”

That caught Lance by surprise. “Really? Isn’t he hanging out with Annaliese right now?”

Margo nods. “He is, but I went in to change her diaper and he volunteered. It was really awesome of him, I haven’t been able to have a drink in what feels like years.”

Lance smiles thoughtfully. “Yeah. That is pretty cool of him.” He stares off into space and begins to wonder…

Lance stands up suddenly, walking towards the short hallway leading to his bedroom with purpose.

“Where’re you going?” Margo asks him.

“Just need to get something from my room,” Lance replies simply. “I’ll be right back.” She shrugs and goes back to drinking her wine, taking out her phone.

Lance tiptoes carefully to his room. Echoes of Keith’s laughter and Nadia’s shrieks can be heard from behind his bedroom door, the light from inside visible from the small crack under the door.

The door is insecure already, as it was not closed properly.  Lance inches the door open just a little so he can see inside. He cringes when it creaks a little, but no one inside seems to notice.

“Okay, okay! I think I got it now.” Keith’s voice is high pitched and strained from laughter. Lance peers inside, and his chest warms at what he sees.

Keith and Annaliese are sitting on the bed, Nadia in Keith’s lap. A sketchbook and colored pencils are tossed to the side, forgotten. Annaliese is signing eagerly to Keith, occasionally writing translations down on a piece of paper in her lap. Nadia laughs at what her tia is doing with her hands and plays with Keith’s shirt.

Keith does some simple hand motions, opening and closing his fist while moving the position of his thumb. It takes Lance a few minutes before he realizes that Keith is signing.

Keith signs his name. Though the movements were a bit too fast and not very clean, Annaliese applauds him and jots something down on the paper.

She passes the note to Keith once she’s done writing. Keith smiles at the words on the paper. “Thanks, Anna,” he says, “Even though my sign language was pretty crappy.”

She just grins back at him before taking his hand in hers. She takes his fingers through the gestures again, opening and closing his fist, moving fingers as needed. Keith watches her intently, paying attention to each motion she guides him through.

Annaliese lets go of his hand after taking him through the motions of signing his name three more times. She watches him carefully as he repeats the motions on his own, a little clearer than they were before. When he finishes, he cracks an awkward grin while Annaliese erupts into applause.

She takes back her piece of paper and quickly scribbles something on the paper before throwing it back at him. Nadia tears a little at the corner as Keith reads it, a prideful smile on his face.

“Thanks for the encouragement, Anna,” Keith says earnestly. “This is actually pretty fun and interested to learn. You’ll have to come more often to teach me,” he jokes, adding the last part on a whim.

The use of Annaliese’s family nickname makes Lance’s heart melt even more. Keith’s really got him wound around his finger. Lance would do absolutely anything for him, lasso the sun and moon if Keith asked for it. Keith has just been so understanding with his family and genuinely enjoys spending time with Lance and his chaos of a family. Keith is so caring and sweet and kind and loyal and funny and-

“-Lance?” Keith’s eyes widen slightly when he catches a glimpse of Lance’s eyes peering through a crack in the door.

Lance clears his throat, scrambling to think of an excuse as to why he is looking through the door. “Oh, um, I-,” he tries to say awkwardly, before clearing his throat again. “I was just looking for Nadia.”

Lance shrugs, smiling sheepishly. Keith and Annaliese have the same look of skepticism on their faces, but neither one of them say anything. Nadia coos for her tio, breaking the small stretch of silence.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Lance coos back. He walks over to Keith on the bed. Keith bounces her on his leg and she giggles.

“Are you having fun with Keith?” Lance asks, his voice pitched higher than normal. Nadia wipes her hand all over her face as a response.

Lance and Keith laugh. “You mind watching her? Because if you do, I can grab her-”

Keith waves him off. “Nah, it’s okay. I like hanging out with her. She’s a chill baby.”

Nadia squeals in agreement.

The grin on Lance’s face softens. “Okay,” he says softly. “Just let me know if you need a break.”

“Will do.”

Lance turns to leave the room, dropping a kiss on Annaliese’s head before he does. He gets one last look at Annaliese and Keith, Annaliese starting to teach Keith to swear in sign language.

He regretfully shuts the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS FINALLY OUT!! this chapter took forever for me to finish, sorry! i spilled water on my laptop like an idiot and have been writing this on a really clunky one for the past week or so :'). it was supposed to be longer, but i hope that this was still good enough for now!
> 
> i am going to be taking a short break from this fic! not really going to affect my writing, i'll be uploading short drabbles and doing writing requests on my tumblr. the chapters will just be posted on a bi to tri-weekly basis rather than weekly. schools really been on my case lately oof
> 
> follow my tumblr for more drabbles and send in writing requests: geckointhegarbage.tumblr.com  
> art tumblr: 88-20.tumblr.com  
> instagram: @88._.20


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith finally lets go.

“Ow! Someone’s stepping on my foot!”

“What does a guy have to do to get some breathing room around here?”

“ _ Lancito,  _ I think you need to rent a bigger apartment.”

“Shh! It’s time for the countdown!”

The entire McClain family crowds into the small living room, elbows jabbing into torsos and necks craning over shoulders to get a view of the TV.

The TV shows the New Years countdown, Times Square bursting with anticipation as the announcer starts counting down. 

“10! 9! 8! 7!” the McClains cheer. Angela and Marcos huddle closer together, as do Margo and Luis. 

“6! 5! 4!” Veronica has her phone out, preparing to Snapchat the first moments of the new year. 

“3! 2! 1!” Luis pulls Margo in for a kiss. “Happy New Year!”

Everyone (except Annaliese and Nadia, of course) down the shot of tequila in their hands. Lance and Luis both whoop, caught up in the excitement. 

The cheers from the TV mix in with the cheers and “Happy New Year”s the family says to each other as they go around the room. At one point, Keith is sandwiched between Luis and Veronica, both of them wasted. 

Keith laughs nervously and wiggles himself away from the two. Lance giggles when he sees them, and snaps a quick picture before Keith can protest. 

As the group trickles out of the living room and into the kitchen to refill their drinks and grab more food, Lance realizes that there is one person he hasn’t said happy new year to yet. 

Lance turns around to head back into the living room and find Keith, but by the time he looks over his shoulder, Keith has already found him.

“Hey! Happy new year, dude!” Lance says, wrapping his arm around Keith’s waist and pulling him close in a one armed hug. He sways side to side, a little tipsy. 

Keith gives Lance a small smile but it does little to distract the look of anxiousness in his eyes. Lance takes notice, and unwraps his arm from Keith’s waist. “You okay there, Keith?” 

Keith’s eyes dart from Lance’s worried expression to the rest of the party, who are chatting amongst themselves loudly in the kitchen. Keith fixates his eyes back on Lance. “Can I talk to you for a bit?” Keith asks in a small voice. “Outside?”

Lance furrows his eyebrows together, confused, but gives Keith a nod. They walk silently to the windowsill, and slip outside without anyone else noticing. Lance grabs two of his hoodies that were draped over the arm of his couch from earlier, and hands one of them to Keith. Keith murmurs a thank you and tugs it on. 

The bitter cold from the air outside bites at their skin through the hoodies. Lance bites at his lower lip as he pushes the window shut.  _ Why does Keith want to talk to me? Did I do something? Did I say something? Why now? _

When Lance turns to Keith, Keith is watching cars pass by. His ponytail is a little dishevelled, and he pushes a few stray strands behind his ear. Lance notices Keith picking at his fingernails again and his chest tightens. 

“So…,” Lance begins awkwardly, leaning on the railing next to Keith. The creaking metal adds to the awkward aura around the conversation. “What did you want to talk about?”

Keith hardens his gaze at a streetlight, refusing to meet Lance’s nervous eyes. He’s silent for a few more moments, clenching his hands into tight fists. When he finally speaks, Lance breathes out a silent sigh of relief. “I wanted to talk to you about, well, you.”

“About me?” Lance replies, surprised. 

Keith nods slowly. “About you,” he says softly. Lance is about to ask him to elaborate before Keith cuts him off. “I think…” Keith squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, the words getting caught in his throat. Lance waits patiently for him to gather his thoughts. 

Keith opens his eyes, finally turning to meet Lance’s gaze. “I think I like you,” Keith whispers so quietly Lance almost doesn’t hear him. 

“You...like me?” Lance repeats, the words feeling too good to be true. 

“More than a friend,” Keith adds, his voice a little clearer now. “Way more than a friend.”

Lance smiles and laughs gently. The warm air from his lungs create fog as he breathes out. “I can’t believe it.”

“But,” Keith continues. “I can’t.”

The smile on Lance’s face is wiped away as easily as it appeared. “What?”

Keith pulls the hoodie sleeves down over his hands. “I can’t be with you, Lance.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just can’t, okay?” Keith’s voice is strained, like he’s about to cry. Lance doesn’t want him to cry. 

“But, why can’t you?” Lance pushes gently, scooting closer to Keith. “You know that I really, really like you. And you like me. So…” Lance trails off, shrugging his shoulders. “I just don’t understand, that’s all.”

Keith hangs his head for a moment, before looking back out into the street. “After James,” Keith begins, his voice heavy with emotion. “I didn’t think I could find someone who could love me. James made me think that I was unlovable. That I didn’t do things the right way. That I wasn’t worth anything.” Keith closes his eyes to keep tears from spilling out, while Lance listens intently. 

“But when I was with him I didn’t know the way that I felt was wrong. He was the second person I loved, my first real boyfriend. That night when he proposed, I would have said yes if-” Keith wipes his tears with the cuffs of the hoodie. “if I didn’t know you.”

“When I first say you that day at the bookstore, I knew that you would change my life. I didn’t know if it would be for better or for worse, but I knew that you would have an impact, and that I would never be able to forget you. Just seeing you in the store gave me goosebumps. And when you helped me at the party, I knew you were going to make my life better. When you spoke to me after James’ proposal, that’s when I realized,” Keith meets Lance’s watering eyes, “I knew that I was never going to let you go. You made me want to be me. You made me feel like I had worth and that someone could love me one day, and that I  _ mattered _ ,” Keith’s voice is thick with tears, the gradual flow of them increasing as he continues to speak. “In the morning, I got a mark. I had fallen in love with you.”

Lance reaches out silently, his own face stinging from the tears on his face. Lance laces his fingers with Keith’s, urging him to continue. 

“But I also remembered that you weren’t safe. I hadn’t known you for a long time like I’d known James. I remembered that the only person who loved me back after all these years was James, and there was a zero percent chance that the person that I wanted would. You  _ scared _ me, Lance. I didn’t know what to expect from you. I didn’t know if you would hurt me like James did, if your facade was the real you. I had no idea what would happen to me if I told you.”

“So I made my best effort to get over you. You didn’t help, by the way,” Keith’s tone is suddenly bitter and resentful, “I knew you liked me and that I could be with you. But you weren’t safe. Everytime you told me or pushed on me...it took so much willpower not to punch you. Or kiss you. Or both.” 

“ ‘m sorry Keith. I-,” Lance begins before Keith cuts him off.

“I don’t want to hear your apologies. I want you to just listen to me, because no one ever listens to me and this is the first time in what feels like years that I can finally express how I’m feeling.” Keith takes deep breath. “Then all this shit started happening. Like you taking care of me when I was sick, the grocery store, me even agreeing to be here tonight, that I just-I can’t get over you. I just can’t. Time won’t heal this wound, Lance. And it’s leaving me  _ helpless. _ ”

Keith pulls his hand out of Lance’s and covers his face. When he drops them, his eyes are red and the bags around his eyes are prominent. Lance doesn’t care. Keith has never been as beautiful as he is now. 

“I love you so much, Lance McClain,” Keith sobs. “And it hurts.”

Lance doesn’t hesitate as he wraps Keith in his arms. Lance tucks Keith’s head under his chin, smoothing down the stray hairs from Keith’s ponytail. Lance squeezes his eyes shut as they sway back and forth gently on the fire escape.

Lance whispers comforting words into Keith’s hair as he holds him, just as Keith once did. “I will never hurt you, I love you,” Lance chants like a mantra in Keith’s hair. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

They both feel the twinge of euphoria coursing through their veins, but don’t care. The tallies on their skin mean nothing, as long as they have each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SODJFSID IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT BUT...YEAH  
> THEY FINALLY !! TALKED!!! BL ESS  
> NEXT UPDATE COMING SOON!! WE'RE ALMOST DONE HELL YEAH
> 
> yell at me on tumblr: geckointhegarbage.tumblr.com  
> read more of my drabbles on instagram: @blue._.cadet  
> art tumblr: 88-20.tumblr.com  
> art instagram: @88._.20

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you guys like it so far!! new chapter goes up every week :)
> 
> yell at me on tumblr: geckointhegarbage.tumblr.com  
> instagram: 88._.20  
> art tumblr: 88-20.tumblr.com


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